EMPIRE 

rRUS  TOWNSEND 
BRADY 


THE  EAGLE  OF 
THE  EMPIRE 

A  Story    of  Waterloo 


BY 

CYRUS  TOWNSEND  BRADY 

AUTHOR  OF  "THE  TWO  CAPTAINS,"  "LITTLE  FRANCE," 

"THE  SWORD  HAND  OF  NAPOLEON," 

ETC.,  ETC. 


.ILLUSTRATED  BY  THE  KINNEYS 


NEW  YORK 
GEORGE  H.  DORAN  COMPANY 


Copyright,  1915, 
BY  GEORGE  H.  DORAN  COMPANY 


DEDICATION 

Dedications  have  gone  out  of  vogue  save  with  the  old  fashioned. 
The  ancient  idea  of  an  appeal  to  a  patron  has  been  eliminated  from 
modern  literature.  If  a  man  now  inscribes  a  book  to  any  one  it  is  that 
he  may  associate  with  his  work  the  names  of  friends  he  loves  and  de 
lights  to  honor.  There  is  always  a  certain  amount  of  assurance  in  any 
such  dedication,  the  assurance  lying  in  the  assumption  that  there  is 
honor  to  the  recipient  in  the  association  with  the  book.  Well,  there  is 
no  mistaking  the  purpose  anyway. 

One  of  my  best  friends,  and  that  friendship  has  been  proved  in  war 
and  peace,  at  home  and  abroad,  is  a  Bank!  The  Bank  is  like  Mercy  in 
more  ways  than  one,  but  particularly  in  that  it  is  twice  blessed;  it  is 
blessed  in  what  it  receives,  I  hope,  and  in  what  it  gives,  I  know.  From 
the  standpoint  of  the  depositor  sometimes  it  is  better  to  receive  than  to 
give.  It  has  been  so  in  my  case  and  I  have  been  able  to  persuade  the 
Bank  to  that  way  of  thinking. 

Therefore,  in  grateful  acknowledgment  of  the  very  present  help  it 
has  been  to  me  in  time  of  need  and  in  public  recognition  of  many 
courtesies  from  its  officers  and  directors,  and  as  some  evidence  of  my 
deep  appreciation  of  its  many  kindnesses  to  me,  I  dedicate  this  book  to 

THE  MOUNT  VERNON  TRUST  COMPANY 

of 
MOUNT  VERNON,  NEW  YORK 


2228445 


PREFACE 

THE  Battle  of  Waterloo,  which  was  fought  just 
one  hundred  years  ago  and  with  which  the  story  in 
this  book  ends,  is  popularly  regarded  as  one  of  the 
decisive  battles  of  the  world,  particularly  with  ref 
erence  to  the  career  of  the  greatest  of  all  Captains. 
Personally  some  study  has  led  me  to  believe  that 
Bautzen  was  really  the  decisive  battle  of  the  Napo 
leonic  wars.  If  the  Emperor  had  there  won  the 
overwhelming  victory  to  which  his  combinations  and 
the  fortunes  of  war  entitled  him  he  would  still  have 
retained  his  Empire.  Whether  he  would  have  been 
satisfied  or  not  is  another  question ;  and  anyway  as 
I  am  practically  alone  among  students  and  critics  hi 
my  opinions  about  Bautzen  they  can  be  dismissed. 
And  that  he  lost  that  battle  was  his  own  fault  any 
way! 

However  Napoleon's  genius  cannot  be  denied  any 
more  than  his  failure.  In  this  book  I  have  sought 
to  show  him  at  his  best  and  also  almost  at  his  worst. 
For  sheer  brilliance,  military  and  mental,  the  cam 
paigning  in  France  in  1814  could  not  be  surpassed. 
He  is  there  with  his  raw  recruits,  his  beardless  boys, 
his  old  guard,  his  tactical  and  strategical  ability,  his 
furious  energy,  his  headlong  celerity  and  his  marvel 
ous  power  of  inspiration;  just  as  he  was  in  Italy 
when  he  revolutionized  the  art  of  war  and  electrified 
the  world.  Many  of  these  qualities  are  in  evidence  in 
the  days  before  Waterloo,  but  during  the  actual  bat- 

7 


8  PREFACE 

tie  upon  which  his  fate  and  the  fate  of  the  world 
turned,  the  tired,  broken,  ill  man  is  drowsily  nodding 
before  a  farmhouse  by  the  road,  while  Ney,  whose 
superb  and  headlong  courage  was  not  accompanied 
by  any  corresponding  military  ability,  wrecks  the 
last  grand  army. 

And  there  is  no  more  dramatic  an  incident  in  all 
history,  I  believe,  than  Napoleon's  advance  on  the 
Fifth-of-the-line  drawn  up  on  the  Grenoble  Road 
on  the  return  from  Elba. 

Nor  do  the  Roman  Eagles  themselves  seem  to 
have  made  such  romantic  appeal  or  to  have  won 
such  undying  devotion  as  the  Eagles  of  the  Empire. 

This  story  was  written  just  before  the  outbreak 
of  the  present  European  war  and  is  published  while 
it  is  in  full  course.  Modern  commanders  wield  forces 
beside  which  even  the  great  Army  of  the  Nations 
that  invaded  Russia  is  scarcely  more  than  a  detach 
ment,  and  battles  last  for  days,  weeks,  even  months 
— Waterloo  was  decided  in  an  afternoon! — yet  war 
is  the  same.  If  there  be  any  difference  it  simply 
grows  more  horrible.  The  old  principles,  however, 
are  unchanged,  and  over  the  fields  upon  which  Na 
poleon  marched  and  fought,  armies  are  marching 
and  fighting  in  practically  the  same  way  to-day. 
And  great  Captains  are  still  studying  Frederick, 
Wellington  and  Bonaparte  as  they  have  ever  done. 

The  author  modestly  hopes  that  this  book  may 
not  only  entertain  by  the  love  story,  the  tragic  yet 
happily  ended  romance  within  its  pages — for  there 
is  romance  here  aside  from  the  great  Captain  and 
his  exploits — but  that  in  a  small  way  it  may  serve 


PREFACE  9 

to  set  forth  not  so  much  the  brilliance  and  splendor 
and  glory  of  war  as  the  horror  of  it. 

We  are  frightfully  fascinated  by  war,  even  the 
most  peaceable  and  peace-loving  of  us.  May  this 
story  help  to  convey  to  the  reader  some  of  the  other 
side  of  it;  the  hunger,  the  cold,  the  weariness,  the 
suffering,  the  disaster,  the  despair  of  the  soldier;  as 
well  as  the  love  and  the  joy  and  the  final  happiness 
of  the  beautiful  Laure  and  the  brave  Marteau — to 
say  nothing  of  redoubtable  old  Bal-Arret,  the  Bullet- 
Stopper — whose  fates  were  determined  on  the  battle 
field  amid  the  clash  of  arms. 

CYRUS  TOWNSEND  BRADY. 

THE  HEMLOCKS, 

EDGECLIFF  TERRACE,  PABK-HILL-ON-HUDSON, 

YONKERS.  N.  Y. 

EPIPHANY-TIDE,  1915. 


CONTENTS 

PROLOGUE 

PAGE 

VIVE  L'EMPEREUR 17 

BOOK  I:    THE  EMPEROK  AT  BAY 

CHAPTER 

I.    BEARERS  OF  EVIL  TIDINGS      ....  27 

II.    THE  EMPEROR  DREAMS 38 

III.  THE  ARMY  MARCHES  AWAY  ....  48 

IV.  MARTEAU  AND  BAL-ARRET  RIDE      ...  57 
V.    WHEN  THE  COSSACKS  PASSED        ...  73 

VI.    MARTEAU  BARGAINS  FOR  THE  WOMAN    .        .  85 

VTL    A  RESCUE  AND  A  SIEGE 95 

VEIL    A  TRIAL  OF  ALLEGIANCE        ....  106 

IX.    THE  EMPEROR  EATS  AND  RIDES      .        .        .  114 

X.    How  MARTEAU  WON  THE  CROSS    .        .        .  126 

XI.    AN  EMPEROR  AND  A  GENTLEMAN   .        .        .  137 

XII.    AN  ALLIANCE  DECLINED        ....  147 

XIII.  THE  THUNDERBOLT  STROKE   ....  154 

XIV.  THE  HAMMER  OF  THE  WAR  GOD    .        .        .  166 

BOOK  II :    THE  EAGLE'S  FLIGHT 

XV.    THE  BRIDGE  AT  ARCIS 179 

XVI.     THE  GATE  IN  THE  WALL        .        .        .        .188 

XVII.    A  VETERAN  OF  THE  ARMY  OF  ITALY      .        .  195 

XVIII.    ALMOST  A  GENTLEMAN  .....  202 

XIX.     THE  GREAT  HONOR  ROLL        .        .        .        .216 

XX.    WHEN  THE  VIOLETS  BLOOM  AGAIN        .        .  230 

XXI.     LIKE  A  THIEF  IN  THE  NIGHT  ....  240 

XXTI.    IN  THE  COUNTESS  LAURE'S  BED-CHAMBER      .  252 

11 


12  CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

XXIII.  THE  MARQUIS  GRANTS  AN  INTERVIEW    .  .  265 

XXIV.  ON  THE  WHOLE  DEATH  MAY  BE  BETTER 

THAN  LIFE 278 

XXV.  Nor  EVEN  LOVE  CAN  FIND  A  WAY         .  .  286 

XXVI.  THEY  MEET  A  LION  IN  THE  WAY      .  .  296 

XXVII.  COMRADE!   GENERAL!    EMPEROR!  .        .  .  309 

BOOK  III:    THE  LAST  TKY 

XXVIII.  AT  THE  STAMP  OF  THE  EMPEROR'S  FOOT  .  321 

XXIX.  WATERLOO— THE  FINAL  REVIEW    .        .  .333 

XXX.  WATERLOO — THE  CHARGE  OF  D'ERLON  .  .  343 

XXXI.  WATERLOO — THE  LAST  OF  THE  GUARD  .  .  353 

XXXII.  AT  LAST  THE  EAGLE  AND  THE  WOMAN  .  362 


ILLUSTRATIONS 


Waterloo — The  Last  Charge  of  the  Old  Guard. 

Frontispiece 

PAGH 

The  Little  Countess  Saves  the  Emperor     .      .      .      .      138 

"The  Temple  Fifth"  Salutes  Its  Lost  Eagle.     "Vive 

1'Empereur!" 230 

The  Little  Countess  Takes  Arms  for  Her  Defence    .     250 


PROLOGUE: 
VIVE  L'EMPEREUR 


PROLOGUE 

VIVE  I/EMPEREUR 

THE  weatherworn  Chateau  d'Aumenier  stands  in 
the  midst  of  a  noble  park  of  trees  forming  part  of  an 
extensive  domain  not  far  to  the  northwest  of  the 
little  town  of  Sezanne,  in  the  once  famous  county  of 
Champagne,  in  France.  The  principal  room  of  the 
castle  is  a  great  hall  in  the  oldest  part  of  the  vener 
able  pile  which  dates  back  for  eight  hundred  years, 
or  to  the  tenth  century  and  the  times  of  the  famous 
Count  Eudes  himself,  for  whom  it  was  held  by  one 
of  his  greatest  vassals. 

The  vast  apartment  is  filled  with  rare  and  inter 
esting  mementos  of  its  distinguished  owners,  includ 
ing  spoils  of  war  and  trophies  of  the  chase,  acquired 
in  one  way  or  another  in  the  long  course  of  their 
history,  and  bespeaking  the  courage,  the  power,  the 
ruthlessness,  and,  sometimes,  the  unscrupulousness 
of  the  hard-hearted,  heavy-handed  line.  Every 
country  in  Europe  and  every  age,  apparently,  has 
been  levied  upon  to  adorn  this  great  hall,  with  its 
long  mullioned  windows,  its  enormous  fireplace,  its 
huge  carved  stone  mantel,  its  dark  oak  paneled 
walls  and  beamed  ceiling.  But,  the  most  interesting, 
the  most  precious  of  all  the  wonderful  things  therein 
has  a  place  of  honor  to  itself  at  the  end  farthest  from 
the  main  entrance. 

17 


18  PROLOGUE 

Fixed  against  this  wall  is  a  broken  staff,  or  pole, 
surmounted  by  a  small  metallic  figure.  The  staff  is 
fastened  to  the  wall  by  clamps  of  tempered  steel 
which  are  further  secured  by  delicate  locks  of  skillful 
and  intricate  workmanship.  The  pole  is  topped  by 
the  gilded  effigy  of  an  eagle. 

In  dimensions  the  eagle  is  eight  inches  high,  from 
head  to  feet,  and  nine  and  a  half  inches  wide,  from 
wing  tip  to  wing  tip.  Heraldically,  "Un  Aigle 
fiploye"  it  would  be  called.  That  is,  an  eagle  in  the 
act  of  taking  flight — in  the  vernacular,  a  "spread 
eagle."  The  eagle  looks  to  the  left,  with  its  wings 
half  expanded.  In  its  talons  it  grasps  a  thunderbolt, 
as  in  the  old  Roman  standard.  Those  who  have  ever 
wandered  into  the  Monastery  of  the  Certosa,  at  Mi 
lan,  have  seen  just  such  an  eagle  on  one  of  the  tombs 
of  the  great  Visconti  family.  For,  in  truth,  this  em 
blem  has  been  modeled  after  that  one. 

Below  the  thunderbolt  is  a  tablet  of  brass,  three 
inches  square,  on  which  is  a  raised  number.  In  this 
instance,  the  number  is  five.  The  copper  of  which 
the  eagle  is  molded  was  originally  gilded,  but  in 
its  present  battered  condition  much  of  the  gilt  has 
been  worn  off,  or  shot  off,  and  the  original  material 
is  plainly  discernible.  If  it  could  be  lifted  its  weight 
would  be  found  to  be  about  three  and  a  half  pounds. 

Around  the  neck  of  the  eagle  hangs  a  wreath  of 
pure  gold.  There  is  an  inscription  on  the  back  of  it, 
which  says  that  the  wreath  was  presented  to  the 
regiment  by  the  loyal  city  of  Paris  after  the  wonder 
ful  Ulm  campaign. 

One  of  the  claws  of  the  eagle  has  been  shot  away. 


PROLOGUE  19 

The  gold  laurel  wreath  has  also  been  struck  by  a 
bullet,  and  some  of  its  leaves  are  gone.  The  tip  of 
one  wing  is  missing.  The  head  of  the  eagle,  origi 
nally  proudly  and  defiantly  erect,  has  been  bent 
backward  so  that,  instead  of  a  level  glance,  it  looks 
upward,  and  there  is  a  deep  dent  in  it,  as  from  a 
blow.  And  right  in  the  breast  gapes  a  great  ragged 
shot-hole,  which  pierces  the  heart  of  the  proud  em 
blem.  The  eagle  has  seen  service.  It  has  been  in 
action.  It  bears  its  honorable  wounds.  No  attempt 
has  been  made  to  repair  it. 

The  staff  on  which  the  eagle  stands  has  been 
broken  at  about  half  its  length,  presumably  by  a 
bullet.  The  shattered,  splintered  end  indicates  that 
the  staff  is  made  of  oak.  It  had  been  painted  blue 
originally.  The  freshness  of  the  paint  has  been 
marred.  On  one  side,  a  huge  slice  has  been  cut 
out  of  it  as  if  by  a  mighty  sword  stroke.  The  tough 
wood  is  gashed  and  scarred  in  various  places,  and 
there  is  a  long,  dark  blur  just  above  the  broken  part, 
which  looks  as  if  it  might  be  a  blood  stain. 

Below  the  eagle,  and  attached  to  the  remainder  of 
the  staff  for  about  three-fourths  of  its  length,  is  what 
remains  of  a  battle  flag.  The  material  of  it  was 
originally  rich  and  heavy  crimson  silk,  bordered  with 
gold  fringe.  It  is  faded,  tattered,  shot-torn,  bullet- 
ridden,  wind-whipped;  parts  of  it  have  disappeared. 
It  has  been  carefully  mounted,  and  is  stretched  out 
so  as  to  present  its  face  to  the  beholder.  In  dull, 
defaced  letters  of  gold  may  be  read  inscriptions — the 
imagination  piecing  out  the  missing  parts.  Here  is 
a  line  that  runs  as  follows : 


20  PROLOGUE 

Napoleon,  Empereur  des  Frangais,  cm  5e  Infanterie 
de  la  Ligne. 

And  underneath,  in  smaller  and  brighter  letters, 
as  if  a  later  addition: 

Grenadiers  du  Garde  Imperiale. 

There  has  been  some  sort  of  device  in  the  middle, 
but  most  of  it  has  disappeared.  From  what  remains, 
one  guesses  that  it  was  a  facsimile  of  the  eagle  on 
the  staff-head.  There  are  little  tarnished  spots  of 
gold  here  and  there.  A  close  observation  discloses 
that  they  are  golden  bees.  In  the  corners  near  the 
staff,  the  only  ones  that  are  left  are  golden  wreaths 
in  the  center  of  which  may  be  seen  the  letter  "N". 

On  the  other  side  of  the  flag,  hidden  from  the 
beholder,  are  a  series  of  names.  They  have  been 
transcribed  upon  a  silver  plate,  which  is  affixed  to 
the  wall  below  the  broken  staff.  They  read  as  fol 
lows: 

"Marengo;  Ulm;  Austerlitz;  Jena;  Berlin;  Eylau; 
Friedland;  Madrid;  Eckmuhl;  Wagram;  Vienna; 
Smolensk;  Moskowa;  Bautzen;  Leipsic;  Montmi- 
rail;  Arcis." 

Beneath  this  list  is  a  heavy  dash  and  below  all  in 
larger  letters,  which  unlike  the  rest  have  been  filled 
with  black  enamel,  is  the  last  word, 

"WATERLOO." 

The  eagle,  the  staff,  and  the  flag  are  enclosed  and 
protected  from  careless  handling  by  a  heavy  glass 
case,  the  panes  set  in  steel  and  silver,  and  the  doors 


PROLOGUE  21 

carefully  locked  to  prevent  its  being  stolen  away. 
But  its  security  is  not  entrusted  to  these  inanimate 
materials  alone.  Every  hour  of  the  day  and  night 
there  keeps  watch  over  it  an  old  soldier.  He  is 
armed  and  equipped  as  if  for  battle,  in  the  uniform 
of  the  old  Fifth  Regiment  of  the  Line,  somehow 
temporarily  incorporated  in  the  Imperial  Guard  as 
a  supplementary  regiment  of  the  Grenadiers  thereof. 
The  black  gaiters,  the  white  trousers,  the  blue  and 
scarlet  coat,  with  its  crossed  belts  and  brilliant  deco 
rations,  the  lofty  bearskin  head-dress,  are  all 
strangely  in  keeping  with  the  relic  and  its  surround 
ings. 

Sometimes  the  soldier — and  there  are  five  of  them 
whose  sole  and  only  business  it  is  to  watch  over 
the  flag — paces  steadily  up  and  down  in  front  of  it, 
like  a  sentry  on  his  post.  Sometimes  he  stands  be 
fore  it  at  parade  rest.  As  to  each  individual's  move 
ments,  he  suits  his  fancy.  These  are  old  soldiers, 
indeed,  highly  privileged,  veterans  of  twenty  cam 
paigns,  fifty  pitched  battles,  and  smaller  affairs  with 
out  number.  Their  weatherbeaten  faces  are  lined 
and  wrinkled,  their  mustaches  are  as  white  as  snow. 

The  guard  is  always  relieved  at  the  appointed  in 
tervals  with  military  formality  and  precision.  One 
soldier,  older,  taller  than  the  rest,  is  in  command 
of  the  other  four.  From  his  buttonhole  dangles  from 
a  white  ribbon  a  little  cross  of  white  enamel. 
Though  he  shows  no  insignia  of  rank  higher  than 
that  of  a  Sergeant  of  the  Guard,  he  has  won  the 
proud  distinction  of  the  Legion  of  Honor. 

At  one  stated  hour  in  the  day,  a  tall,  handsome, 


22  PROLOGUE 

distinguished,  middle-aged  man,  wearing  for  the  oc 
casion  the  uniform  of  a  colonel  in  the  Imperial 
Guard,  a  blood-stained,  tarnished,  battered,  battle- 
worn  uniform,  be  it  observed,  comes  into  the  room. 
He  is  more  often  than  not  attended  by  a  lovely  lady 
of  beauty  and  grace,  in  spite  of  her  years,  who  leads 
with  either  hand  a  handsome  youth  and  a  beauti 
ful  maiden.  The  four  soldiers  are  always  present  in 
full  uniform  under  the  command  of  their  sergeant 
at  this  hour.  As  the  officer  enters  they  form  line, 
come  to  attention,  and  present  arms,  a  salute  he 
gravely  and  punctiliously  acknowledges.  Attendants 
follow,  bearing  decanters  and  glasses;  wine  for  the 
officer  and  his  family,  something  stronger  for  the 
soldiers.  The  glasses  are  filled.  With  her  own  fair 
hands,  the  lady  hands  them  to  the  men.  When  all 
are  ready  the  officer  holds  up  his  glass.  The  men, 
stacking  arms,  do  the  same.  The  eyes  of  all  glance 
upward.  Above  the  eagle  and  the  flag  upon  a  shelf 
upon  the  wall  stands  a  marble  head,  product  of 
Canova's  marvelous  chisel.  It  is  Napoleon.  White 
it  gleams  against  the  dark  stone  of  the  old  hall.  At 
a  nod  the  soldiers  face  about,  and — 

"Vive  I'Empereur,"  says  the  officer  quietly. 

"Vive  I'Empereur,"  in  deep  and  solemn  tones  re 
peats  the  old  sergeant. 

"Vive  I'Empereur,"  comes  from  the  lips  of  the  four 
soldiers,  and  even  the  woman  and  the  young  people 
join  in  that  ancient  acclaim. 

The  great  Emperor  is  dead  long  since.  He  sleeps 
beneath  the  willows  in  the  low  valley  in  the  lonely, 
far-off,  wave-washed  islet  of  St.  Helena.  But  to 


PROLOGUE  23 

these  men  he  will  never  die.  It  is  their  blood  that 
is  upon  that  eagle  staff.  It  was  in  their  hands  that 
it  received  those  wounds.  While  they  carried  it, 
flung  to  the  breeze  of  battle,  it  was  shot-torn  and 
storm-riven.  It  is  a  priceless  treasure  to  them  all. 
As  they  followed  it  with  the  ardor  and  devotion  of 
youth  so  they  now  guard  it  and  respect  it  with  the 
steadier  but  not  less  intense  consecration  of  ma 
turity  and  old  age. 

The  eagle  of  a  vanished  empire,  the  emblem  of 
a  fame  that  is  past.  It  is  as  real  to  them  as  when 
into  the  hands  of  one  of  them  it  was  given  by  the 
Emperor  himself  on  the  Champ  de  Mars  so  long 
ago  when  he  was  lord  of  the  world.  And  so  long  as 
they  live  they  will  love  it,  reverence  it,  guard  it, 
salute  it  as  in  the  past. 


BOOK  I 
THE  EMPEROR  AT  BAY 


CHAPTER  I 

BEARERS  OP  EVIL  TIDINGS 

THE  Emperor  walked  nervously  up  and  down  the 
long,  low-ceiled  apartment,  the  common  room  of 
the  public  inn  at  Nogent.  Grouped  around  a  long 
table  in  the  center  of  the  room  several  secretaries 
were  busy  with  orders,  reports  and  dispatches.  At 
one  end  stood  a  group  of  officers  of  high  rank  in  rich 
uniforms  whose  brilliance  was  shrouded  by  heavy 
cloaks  falling  from  their  shoulders  and  gathered 
about  them,  for  the  air  was  raw  and  chill,  despite  a 
great  fire  burning  in  a  huge  open  fireplace.  Their 
cloaks  and  hats  were  wet,  their  boots  and  trousers 
splashed  with  mud,  and  in  general  they  were  travel- 
stained  and  weary.  They  eyed  the  Emperor,  passing 
and  repassing,  in  gloomy  silence  mixed  with  awe. 
In  their  bearing  no  less  than  in  their  faces  was 
expressed  a  certain  unwonted  fierce  resentment, 
which  flamed  up  and  became  more  evident  when  the 
Emperor  turned  his  back  in  his  short,  restless  march 
to  and  fro,  but  which  subsided  as  suddenly  when  he 
had  them  under  observation.  By  the  door  was  sta 
tioned  a  young  officer  in  the  uniform  of  the  Fifth 
Regiment  of  the  infantry  of  the  line.  He  stood 
quietly  at  attention,  and  was  evidently  there  on 
duty. 

27 


28    THE  EAGLE  OF  THE  EMPIRE 

From  time  to  time  officers,  orderlies  and  couriers 
came  into  the  room,  bearing  dispatches.  These  were 
handed  to  the  young  officer  and  by  him  passed  over 
to  the  Emperor.  Never  since  the  days  of  Job  had 
any  man  perhaps  been  compelled  to  welcome  such 
a  succession  of  bearers  of  evil  tidings  as  Napoleon 
on  that  winter  night. 

The  Emperor's  face  was  pale  always,  but  there  was 
an  ashy  grayness  about  his  pallor  in  that  hour  that 
marked  a  difference.  His  face  was  lined  and  seamed, 
not  to  say  haggard.  The  mask  of  imperturbability 
he  usually  wore  was  down.  He  looked  old,  tired,  dis 
couraged.  His  usual  iron  self-control  and  calm  had 
given  place  to  an  overwhelming  nervousness  and  in 
certitude.  He  waved  his  hands,  he  muttered  to  him 
self,  his  mouth  twitched  awry  from  time  to  time  as 
he  walked. 

"Well,  messieurs,"  he  began  at  last,  in  sharp, 
rather  high-pitched  notes — even  his  voice  sounded 
differently — as  he  lifted  his  eyes  from  perusing  the 
latest  dispatch  and  faced  the  uneasy  group  by  the 
fireplace,  "you  are  doubtless  anxious  to  know  the 
news."  The  Emperor  stepped  over  to  the  table  as 
he  spoke,  and  gathered  up  a  handful  of  dispatches 
and  ran  over  them  with  his  hands.  "It  is  all  set 
forth  here :  The  Germans  and  the  English  have  shut 
up  Carnot  in  Antwerp,"  he  continued  rapidly,  throw 
ing  one  paper  down.  "The  Bourbons  have  entered 
Brussels," — he  threw  another  letter  upon  the  table — 
"Belgium,  you  see,  is  lost.  Bernadotte  has  taken 
Denmark.  Macdonald  is  falling  back  on  Epernay, 
his  weak  force  growing  weaker  every  hour.  Yorck, 


THE  EMPEROR  AT  BAY          29 

who  failed  us  once  before,  is  hard  on  his  heels  with 
twice,  thrice,  the  number  of  his  men.  Sacken  is 
trying  to  head  him  off.  The  King  of  Naples  seeks 
to  save  the  throne  on  which  I  established  him  by 
withdrawing  from  me  now — the  poor  fool!  The 
way  to  Paris  along  the  Marne  is  open,  and  Bliicher 
is  marching  on  the  capital  with  eighty  thousand 
Russians,  Prussians  and  Bavarians.  Schwarzenburg 
with  many  more  is  close  at  hand." 

Something  like  a  hollow  groan  broke  from  the 
breasts  of  the  auditors  as  the  fateful  dispatches  fell 
one  by  one  from  the  Emperor's  hand.  The  secre 
taries  stopped  writing  and  stared.  The  young  officer 
by  the  door  clenched  his  hands. 

"Sire ,"  said  one  of  the  officers,  the  rich  trap 
pings  of  whose  dress  indicated  that  he  was  a  Mar 
shal  of  France.  He  began  boldly  but  ended  timidly. 
"Before  it  is  too  late " 

Napoleon  swung  around  and  fixed  his  piercing 
eyes  upon  him,  as  his  voice  died  away.  The  Em 
peror  could  easily  finish  the  uncompleted  sentence. 

"What,  you,  Mortier!"  he  exclaimed. 

"I,  too,  Sire,"  said  another  marshal  more  boldly, 
apparently  encouraged  by  the  fact  that  his  brother 
officer  had  broken  the  ice. 

"And  you,  Marmont,"  cried  the  Emperor,  trans 
fixing  him  in  turn  with  a  reproachful  glance. 

Both  marshals  stepped  back  abashed. 

"Besides,"  said  the  Emperor  gloomily,  "it  is  al 
ready  too  late.  I  have  reserved  the  best  for  the 
last,"  he  said  with  grim  irony.  "The  courier  who 
has  just  departed  is  from  Caulaincourt."  He  lifted 


30    THE  EAGLE  OF  THE  EMPIRE 

the  last  dispatch,  which  he  had  torn  open  a  moment 
or  two  since.  He  shook  it  in  the  air,  crushed  it  in 
his  hand,  laughed,  and  those  who  heard  him  laugh 
shuddered. 

"What  does  the  Duke  of  Vicenza  say,  Sire?" 
chimed  in  another  marshal. 

"It  is  you,  Berthier,"  said  the  Emperor.  "You,  at 
least,  do  not  advise  surrender?" 

"Not  yet,  Sire." 

"But  when?"  asked  Napoleon  quickly.  Without 
waiting  for  an  answer  to  his  question,  he  continued : 
"The  allies  now  graciously  offer  us — think  of  it, 
gentlemen — the  limits  of  1791." 

"Impossible!"  cried  a  big  red-headed  marshal. 

"They  demand  it,  Prince  of  the  Moskowa,"  an 
swered  the  Emperor,  addressing  Marshal  Ney. 

"But  it's  incredible,  Sire." 

"What!"  burst  out  Napoleon  passionately.  "Shall 
we  leave  France  less  than  we  found  her,  after  all 
these  victories,  after  all  these  conquests,  after  all 
these  submissions  of  kings  and  nations?  Shall  we 
go  back  to  the  limits  of  the  old  monarchy?  Never!" 

"But,  Sire "  began  Marshal  Maret. 

"No  more,"  said  the  Emperor,  turning  upon  the 
Due  de  Bassano.  "Rather  death  than  that.  While 
we  have  arms  we  can  at  least  die." 

He  flashed  an  imperious  look  upon  the  assembly, 
but  no  one  seemed  to  respond  to  his  appeal.  The 
Emperor's  glance  slowly  roved  about  the  room.  The 
young  captain  met  his  look.  Instantly  and  instinc 
tively  his  hand  went  up  in  salute,  his  lips  framed 
the  familiar  phrase: 


THE  EMPEROR  AT  BAY          31 

"Vive  I'Empereur!  Yes,  Sire,  we  can  still  die  for 
you,"  he  added  in  a  low  respectful  voice,  but  with 
tremendous  emphasis  nevertheless. 

He  was  a  mere  youth,  apparently.  Napoleon 
looked  at  him  approvingly,  although  some  of  the 
marshals,  with  clouded  brows  and  indignant  words 
of  protest  at  such  an  outburst  from  so  young  a  man, 
would  have  reproved  him  had  not  their  great  leader 
checked  them  with  a  gesture. 

"Your  name,  sir,"  he  said  shortly  to  the  young 
officer  who  had  been  guilty  of  such  an  amazing 
breach  of  military  decorum. 

"Marteau,  Sire.  Jean  Marteau,  at  the  Emperor's 
service,"  answered  the  young  soldier  nervously,  real 
izing  what  impropriety  he  had  committed. 

"It  remains,"  said  the  Emperor,  looking  back  at 
the  marshals  and  their  aides,  "for  a  beardless  boy 
to  set  an  example  of  devotion  in  which  Princes  and 
Dukes  of  the  Empire,  Marshals  of  France,  heroes  of 
fifty  pitched  battles,  fail." 

"We  will  die  for  you,  Sire,  for  France,  die  with 
arms  in  our  hands,  if  we  had  them,  and  on  the  field 
of  battle,"  began  impetuous  Ney. 

"If  we  don't  starve  first,  Sire,"  said  cautious  Ber- 
thier  gloomily. 

"Starve!"  exclaimed  the  Emperor. 

"The  army  is  without  food,"  said  Marmont 
bluntly. 

"It  is  half  naked  and  freezing,"  added  Victor. 

"Ammunition  fails  us,"  joined  in  Oudinot. 

"We  have  no  arms,"  added  Mortier. 

"Do  you,  then,  advise  that  we  abandon  ourselves 


32    THE  EAGLE  OF  THE  EMPIRE 

to  the  tender  mercies  of  the  allies?"  asked  Napoleon 
bitterly. 

"Messieurs,  it  is  surely  better  to  die  hungry  and 
naked  and  without  arms  for  the  Emperor  than  to 
consent  to  his  dishonor,  which  is  the  dishonor  of 
France,"  suddenly  burst  forth  the  young  man  at  the 
door. 

"How  dare  you,"  thundered  the  usually  cool  and 
collected  Berthier  angrily,  "a  mere  boy,  monsieur, 
assume  to  speak  in  the  presence  of  the  Emperor,  to 
say  nothing  of  these  great  captains?" 

"May  my  life  be  forfeit,  Monsieur  le  Due,"  said 
the  young  soldier  more  boldly,  since  Napoleon  had 
condoned  his  first  remark,  "if  I  have  done  wrong  in 
assuring  my  Emperor  that  we  would  still  die  for 
him." 

"Of  what  regiment  are  you?"  said  Napoleon,  wav 
ing  Berthier  of  the  frowning  face  into  silence. 

"I  belong  to  the  fifth  of  the  line,  Sire." 

"He  is  in  my  corps,  Sire,"  said  Ney.  "I  have  bri 
gaded  that  veteran  regiment  with  the  new  recruits 
of  the  Young  Guard." 

"But  I  have  seen  service  before,"  said  the  young 
captain. 

"And  I  have  seen  you  before,"  said  Napoleon, 
fixing  upon  him  a  penetrating  glance. 

"Yes,  Sire,  at  the  end  of  the  bridge  over  the  Elster 
at  Leipsic.  You  were  watching  the  men  streaming 
across  when  the  bridge  was  blown  up.  I  was  among 
the  last  to  cross  the  bridge." 

"Go  on,"  said  the  Emperor,  as  the  young  man 
paused. 


THE  EMPEROR  AT  BAY          33 

"Your  majesty  was  pleased  to  say " 

"I  recall  it  all  now.  I  saw  you  plunge  into  the 
river  and  bring  back  to  shore  an  Eagle — that  of  your 
regiment.  You  fell  at  my  feet.  You  should  have 
had  the  Legion  of  Honor  for  it.  I  promised  it  to 
you,  did  I  not?" 

"Yes,  Sire." 

"Why  did  you  not  claim  it?" 

"I  was  wounded  and  left  for  dead;  when  I  got 
back  to  France  and  my  regiment  I  could  not  add  to 
your  anxiety  by— 

"Here,"  said  the  Emperor,  "I  still  have  power  to 
reward  faithful  servants  and  bold  spirits."  He  took 
off  his  own  cross,  fastened  it  on  the  heaving  breast 
of  the  amazed  young  soldier.  "Prince,"  continued 
the  Emperor,  turning  to  Ney. 

"Sire?" 

"Spare  me  this  young  man.  I  need  him  on  my 
staff." 

"I  can  ill  spare  any  officer  from  my  weak  corps 
of  boys  and  old  men,  much  less  a  veteran,"  the 
marshal  laughed.  "One  campaign  makes  us  veter 
ans,  it  seems,  nowadays,  but  you  shall  have  him." 

"Berthier,"  continued  Napoleon,  "make  out  the 
transfer.  Give  the  young  man  a  step  up.  Let  him 
be  Major." 

"Very  well,  Sire,"  said  Berthier,  turning  to  one  of 
the  secretaries  and  giving  him  directions. 

"Meanwhile,  what's  to  be  done?"  continued  Na 
poleon. 

"Tell  Caulaincourt  to  agree  to  anything,"  said 
Maret  bluntly. 


34    THE  EAGLE  OF  THE  EMPIRE 

"I  yet  live/'  said  Napoleon  proudly.  "Naked, 
starving,  unarmed,  though  we  may  be,  I  and  my 
soldiers  have  not  forgot  our  trade.  Courage,  mes 
sieurs.  All  is  not  yet  lost  while  your  Emperor 
breathes.  Here  at  Nogent,  at  Montereau  and  far 
ther  back  we  still  have  seventy  thousand  men.  With 
seventy  thousand  men  and  Napoleon  much  may  be 
accomplished.  Bliicher,  it  is  true,  marches  on  Paris. 
He  counts  on  the  army  of  Schwarzenberg  to  contain 
us.  He  marches  leisurely,  with  wide  intervals  be 
tween  his  divisions.  What  shall  prevent  us " 

"Your  majesty,"  cried  Marmont,  his  eyes  flashing 
as  he  divined  the  Emperor's  plan. 

He  was  the  quickest  witted  and  most  brilliant  of 
the  marshals,  but  by  no  means  the  hardest  fighter, 
or  the  most  loyal  and  devoted  subordinate. 

"I  am  worn  out,"  said  the  Emperor,  smiling  more 
kindly  upon  them.  "I  have  scarcely  been  out  of  the 
saddle — I  have  scarcely  had  an  hour  of  sleep  since 
the  bloody  day  of  La  Rothiere.  I  must  have  rest. 
Let  none  disturb  me  for  two  hours.  Hold  the  mes 
senger  from  the  Duke  of  Vicenza.  I  will  give  an 
answer  then." 

The  Emperor  drooped,  as  he  spoke,  much  of  the 
animation  went  out  of  his  face  and  figure.  He 
looked  grayer  than  ever,  heavier  than  ever,  older 
than  ever. 

"In  two  hours  awaken  me,"  he  said. 

He  stepped  toward  the  door  that  led  to  the  room 
reserved  for  himself,  but  before  he  reached  it  two 
officers  were  admitted.  Napoleon  stopped  and 


THE  EMPEROR  AT  BAY          35 

looked  at  them.  They  saluted  him,  walked  over  to 
Berthier,  the  Chief  of  Staff. 

"The  soldiers  are  dying  of  hunger,"  said  the  first. 
"The  Commissary  General  has  nothing  to  give  them. 
He  expected  a  convoy  of  provisions,  but  Cossacks, 
who  are  reported  at  Fontainebleau,  have  captured 
the  train.  What  shall  we  do?" 

Berthier  threw  up  his  hands,  and  turned  to  the 
other  officer  to  hear  his  report. 

"Ten  thousand  men  are  without  arms,  or  with 
arms  unserviceable  and  broken.  The  supply  of  pow 
der  is  low.  Where  shall  we  get  any  more?" 

The  silence  in  the  room  was  terrible. 

"Sire,"  said  Berthier  in  a  low  voice,  turning  to 
Napoleon,  standing  staring,  "you  hear?"  He 
stretched  out  his  hand  in  appealing  gesture. 

The  Emperor  turned  on  his  heel,  without  deigning 
to  look  or  speak. 

"Watch  the  door  for  two  hours,"  he  said  to  the 
young  officer,  crashing  to  the  door  behind  him. 
"Awaken  me  then." 

"Gentlemen,"  said  Berthier  despairingly  to  the 
other  officers,  "we  shall  never  persuade  him.  You 
had  better  repair  to  your  commands.  Some  of  you 
must  have  something  to  eat.  Divide  what  you  have 
with  the  less  fortunate  divisions.  Arm  and  equip 
the  best  men.  There  is  a  small  supply  at  Nogent,  I 
am  told.  The  others  must  wait." 

"If  we  could  only  get  at  these  pigs  of  Prussians, 
these  dogs  of  Russians,"  said  Ney,  "we  could  take 
food  and  guns  and  powder  from  them." 


36    THE  EAGLE  OF  THE  EMPIRE 

"Doubtless,"  said  Berthier,  not  caring  to  argue 
that  point. 

He  bowed  to  the  officers,  as  they  saluted,  and  went 
out  of  the  door  muttering  and  arguing  noisily  and 
insubordinately,  it  must  be  admitted,  and  then 
turned  to  the  table  where  the  secretaries  sat.  One 
of  them  had  laid  his  head  down  on  his  arms, 
stretched  out  on  the  table  and  was  fast  asleep.  The 
marshal  awoke  him  and  dismissed  him  with  most 
of  the  rest.  From  another  Berthier  took  a  paper. 
He  examined  it,  signed  it,  sealed  it,  and  handed  it 
to  the  young  officer  on  guard  at  the  door. 

"Your  commission,  monsieur,"  he  said.  "Once  I 
was  young  and  full  of  enthusiasm  and  hope  and 
determination.  It  is  well  for  France  that  some  of 
her  children  still  retain  those  things." 

"I  thank  the  Prince  de  Wagram,"  said  the  young 
officer,  bowing  low,  "and  I  beg  his  pardon  for  having 
spoken." 

"The  Emperor  has  forgiven,"  said  Berthier  indif 
ferently.  "His  absolution  covers  us  all.  At  least  if 
I  fall  behind  you  in  those  other  qualities  of  youth  I 
shall  not  fall  behind  you  in  devotion.  Come,  Ma- 
ret,"  continued  the  grand  marshal. 

The  two  worthies  turned  away  and  went  out.  The 
long  room  sank  into  silence.  A  soldier  came  in  after 
a  while  and  replenished  the  fire,  saluted  and  passed 
out.  The  pen  of  the  busy  secretary,  the  only  one 
left  of  the  group,  ceased  scratching  on  the  paper. 
He,  too,  sank  back  in  his  chair  asleep.  The  short 
day  faded  into  twilight  and  then  into  darkness. 
From  outside  beyond  the  courtyard  of  the  inn  came 


THE  EMPEROR  AT  BAY          37 

confused  noises,  indicating  moving  bodies  of  men, 
the  rumble  of  artillery,  the  clatter  of  cavalry,  faint 
words  of  command.  A  light  snow  began  to  fall.  It 
was  intensely  raw  and  cold.  The  officer  picked  up 
his  cloak,  wrapped  it  around  him,  and  resumed  his 
immobile  guard. 


CHAPTER  II 

THE   EMPEROR   DREAMS 

WITHIN  a  mean  room,  which  had  hastily  been 
prepared  for  his  use,  upon  a  camp  bed,  having  cast 
himself  down,  fully  clothed  as  he  was,  lay  the  worn- 
out,  dispirited,  embittered  Emperor.  He  sought 
sleep  in  vain.  Since  Leipsic,  with  its  horrible  dis 
aster  a  few  months  before,  one  reverse  of  fortune 
had  succeeded  another.  He  who  had  entered  every 
country  a  conqueror  at  the  head  of  his  armies,  whose 
myriads  of  soldiers  had  overrun  every  land,  eating 
it  up  with  ruthless  greed  and  rapacity,  and  spreading 
destruction  far  and  wide,  was  now  at  bay.  He  who 
had  dictated  terms  of  peace  in  all  the  capitals  of 
Europe  at  the  head  of  triumphant  legions  was  now 
with  a  small,  weak,  ill-equipped,  unfed  army,  striv 
ing  to  protect  his  own  capital.  France  was  receiving 
the  pitiless  treatment  which  she  had  accorded  other 
lands.  With  what  measure  she  had  meted  out,  it 
was  being  measured  back  to  her  again.  The  cup 
of  trembling,  filled  with  bitterness,  was  being  held 
to  her  shrinking  lips,  and  she  must  perforce  drain 
it  to  the  dregs.  After  all  Napoleon's  far-flung  cam 
paigns,  after  all  his  overwhelming  victories,  after  the 
vast  outpouring  of  blood  and  treasure,  after  all  his 
glory  and  all  his  fame,  the  end  was  at  hand. 

38 


THE  EMPEROR  AT  BAY          39 

The  prostrate  Emperor  stared  out  through  the  low 
window  into  the  gray  sky  with  its  drift  of  snow 
across  the  panes.  He  heard  faintly  the  tumult  out 
side.  Disaster,  ruin,  despair  entered  his  heart.  The 
young  conscripts  were  disheartened  by  defeat,  the 
steady  old  veterans  were  pitifully  few  in  number, 
thousands  of  them  were  in  foreign  prisons,  many 
more  thousands  of  them  were  dead.  Disease  was 
rife  among  the  youthful  recruits,  unused  to  such 
hard  campaigning,  as  he  had  summoned  to  the  col 
ors.  Without  food  and  without  arms,  they  were  be 
ginning  to  desert  their  Eagles.  The  spirit  of  the 
marshals  and  great  officers  whom  he  had  raised  from 
the  dust  to  affluence  and  power  was  waning.  They 
were  worn  out  with  much  fighting.  They  wanted 
peace,  almost  at  any  price.  He  remembered  their 
eager  questions  when  he  had  joined  the  army  a 
month  ago. 

"What  reinforcements  has  your  majesty  brought?" 

"None,"  he  had  been  compelled  to  answer. 

"What,  then,  shall  we  do?"  queried  one  after  the 
other. 

"We  must  try  fortune  with  what  we  have,"  he 
had  declared  undauntedly. 

Well,  they  had  tried  fortune.  Brienne,  where  he 
had  been  a  boy  at  school,  had  been  the  scene  of  a 
brilliantly  successful  action.  They  had  lost  no  glory 
at  La  Rothiere  afterward — although  they  gained 
nothing  else — where  with  thirty  thousand  men  he 
had  beaten  back  through  one  long  bloody  day  and 
night  thrice  that  number,  only  to  have  to  retreat  in 
the  end  for  the  salvation  of  those  who  had  been 


40    THE  EAGLE  OF  THE  EMPIRE 

left  alive.  And,  to  him  who  had  been  wont  to  spend 
them  so  indifferently,  men  had  suddenly  become 
precious,  since  he  could  get  no  more.  Every  dead 
or  wounded  man  was  now  unreplaceable,  and  each 
loss  made  his  problem  harder  to  solve.  Since  those 
two  first  battles  he  had  been  forced  back,  step  by 
step,  mile  by  mile,  league  by  league,  everywhere; 
and  all  his  lieutenants  likewise.  Now  Schwarzen- 
berg,  with  one  hundred  and  thirty  thousand  men, 
confronted  him  on  the  Seine  and  the  Aube,  and 
Bliicher,  with  eighty  thousand  men,  was  marching 
on  Paris  by  way  of  the  Marne,  with  only  Macdon- 
ald  and  his  beaten  and  dispirited  men,  not  ten  thou 
sand  in  number,  to  hold  the  fiery  old  Prussian  field 
marshal  in  check. 

"How  had  it  all  come  to  this,  and  why?"  the  man 
asked  himself,  and,  with  all  his  greatness  and  clear 
ness  of  vision,  the  reason  did  not  occur  to  him.  For 
he  had  only  himself  to  blame  for  his  misfortunes. 
He  was  not  the  man  that  he  had  been.  For  a  moment 
his  old  spirit  had  flashed  out  in  the  common  room 
of  the  inn  two  hours  before,  but  the  reaction  left  him 
heavy,  weary,  old,  lonely.  Physically,  he  felt  un 
equal  to  the  strain.  His  human  frame  was  almost 
worn  out.  Mere  men  cannot  long  usurp  the  attributes 
of  God.  Intoxicated  with  success,  he  had  grasped 
at  omnipotence,  and  for  a  time  had  seemed  to  enjoy 
it,  only  to  fail.  The  mills  of  the  gods  do  grind 
slowly,  but  they  do  grind  immeasurably  small  in  the 
end. 

What  a  long,  bloody  way  he  had  traversed  since 
Toulon,  since  Arcola,  since  the  bridge  at  Lodi,  since 


41 

Marengo?  Into  what  far-off  lands  it  had  led  him: 
Italy,  Egypt,  Syria,  Spain,  Austria,  Prussia  and  the 
great,  white,  cold  empire  of  the  North.  And  all  the 
long  way  paved  with  corpses — corpses  he  had  re 
garded  with  indifference  until  to-day. 

It  was  cold  in  the  room,  in  spite  of  the  fire  in 
the  stove.  It  reminded  him  of  that  dreadful  re 
treat.  The  Emperor  covered  his  face  with  his  hand. 
No  one  was  there.  He  could  afford  to  give  away. 
There  rose  before  him  in  the  darkness  the  face  of 
the  wife  of  his  youth,  only  to  be  displaced  by  the 
nearer  woman,  the  Austrian  wife  and  the  little  son 
whom  he  had  so  touchingly  confided  to  the  National 
Guard  a  month  ago  when  he  left  Paris  for  the  last 
try  with  fortune  for  his  empire  and  his  life.  Would 
the  allies  at  last  and  finally  beat  him ;  would  Francis 
Joseph,  weak  monarch  whom  he  hated,  take  back  his 
daughter,  and  with  her  Napoleon's  son,  and  bring 
him  up  in  Austria  to  hate  the  name  of  France  and 
his  father?  The  Emperor  groaned  aloud. 

The  darkness  fell  upon  the  world  outside,  upon 
the  room  within,  upon  the  soul  of  the  great  Captain 
approaching  the  nadir  of  his  fortunes,  his  spirit  al 
most  at  the  breaking  point.  To  him  at  last  came 
Berthier  and  Maret.  They  had  the  right  of  en 
trance.  The  time  for  which  he  had  asked  had 
passed.  Young  Marteau  admitted  them  without 
question.  They  entered  the  room  slowly,  not  relish 
ing  their  task,  yet  resolute  to  discharge  their  errand. 
The  greater  room  outside  was  alight  from  fire  and 
from  lanterns.  Enough  illumination  came  through 
the  door  into  the  bed-chamber  for  their  purpose — 


42    THE  EAGLE  OF  THE  EMPIRE 

more  than  enough  for  the  Emperor.  He  turned  his 
head  away,  lest  they  should  see  what  they  should  see. 
The  two  marshals  bowed  and  stood  silent. 

"Well?"  said  the  Emperor  at  last,  his  voice  un 
duly  harsh,  as  if  to  cover  emotion  with  its  roughness, 
and  they  noticed  that  he  did  not  look  at  them. 

"Sire,  the  courier  of  the  Duke  of  Vicenza  waits 
for  his  answer,"  said  Maret. 

There  was  another  long  pause. 

"Will  not  your  majesty  give  way  for  the  good  of 
the  people?"  urged  Berthier.  "Give  peace  to  France, 
sire.  The  army  is  hungry " 

"Am  I  God,  messieurs,  to  feed  thousands  with  a 
few  loaves  and  fishes?"  cried  the  Emperor  bitterly. 

"No,  Sire.  Therefore,  authorize  the  duke  to  sign 
the  treaty,  and " 

"What!"  said  Napoleon  fiercely,  sitting  up  on  the 
bed  and  facing  them.  "You  would  have  me  sign  a 
treaty  like  that?  Trample  under  foot  my  corona 
tion  oath?  Unheard-of  disaster  may  have  snatched 
from  me  the  promise  to  renounce  my  own  conquests, 
but  give  up  those  before  me,  never!  Leave  France 
smaller,  weaker  than  I  found  her!  God  keep  me 
from  such  a  disgrace.  Reply  to  Caulaincourt,  since 
you  wish  it,  but  tell  him  I  reject  this  treaty.  We 
must  have  better  terms.  I  prefer  to  run  the  utter 
most  risks  of  war." 

Berthier  opened  his  mouth  to  speak  again,  but 
Napoleon  silenced  him  with  word  and  gesture. 

"No  more,"  he  said.    "Go." 

The  two  marshals  bowed  and  left  the  room  with 


THE  EMPEROR  AT  BAY         43 

downcast  heads  and  resentful  hearts.  As  they  dis 
appeared  Napoleon  called  after  them. 

"Send  me  that  boy  at  the  door.  Lights,"  he  cried, 
as  the  young  officer,  not  waiting  for  the  order  to  be 
repeated,  promptly  entered  the  inner  room  and  sa 
luted.  "The  maps  on  the  table,  bring  them  here, 
and  the  table,  too,"  commanded  the  Emperor. 

Even  as  the  lights  which  were  placed  on  the  table 
dispelled  the  dusk  of  the  room,  so  something  had 
dispelled  the  gloom  of  the  great  man's  soul.  For  a 
moment  he  looked  almost  young  again.  The  gray 
pallor  left  his  cheeks.  Fire  sparkled  in  his  eyes. 

"Not  yet — not  yet,"  he  muttered,  spreading  the 
maps  upon  the  table.  "We  will  have  one  more  try 
with  fortune.  My  star  is  low  on  the  horizon,  but  it 
has  not  set  yet." 

"Nor  shall  it  set,  Sire,  while  I  and  my  comrades 
live,"  returned  Marteau. 

"You  are  right,"  said  the  Emperor.  "You  stand 
to  me  for  France.  Your  spirit  typifies  the  spirit  of 
my  soldiery,  does  it  not?" 

"Theirs  is  even  greater  than  mine,  Sire,"  was  the 
prompt  answer. 

"That's  well.  Do  you  know  the  country  here 
abouts?" 

"I  was  born  at  Aumenier." 

"Let  me  see,"  said  the  Emperor,  "the  village  lies 
beyond  Sezanne?" 

"Yes,  Sire." 

"In  an  opening  in  the  great  woods  beyond  the 
marshes  of  St.  Gond,"  continued  the  other,  studying 


44    THE  EAGLE  OF  THE  EMPIRE 

the  map,  "there  is  a  chateau  there.  Are  you  by  any 
chance  of  the  ancient  house  of  Aumenier?" 

"My  father  was  a  warden  on  the  estates  of  the  last 
marquis." 

"Good.    Do  you  know  that  country?" 

"I  have  hunted  over  every  rod  of  it  as  a  boy,  Sire." 

"I  must  have  news,"  said  the  Emperor,  "informa 
tion,  definite  tidings.  I  want  to  know  where  Bliicher 
is;  where  his  several  army  corps  are.  Can  I  trust 
so  young  a  head  as  yours  with  great  matters?" 

"Tortures  could  not  wring  from  me  anything  you 
may  confide,  your  majesty,"  said  the  young  man 
resolutely. 

"I  believe  you,"  said  the  Emperor,  looking  at  him 
keenly  and  reading  him  like  a  book.  "Look.  Before 
daybreak  Marmont  marches  to  Sezanne.  The  next 
day  after  I  follow.  I  shall  leave  enough  men  behind 
the  river  here  to  hold  back  Schwarzenberg,  or  at 
least  to  check  him  if  he  advances.  With  the  rest  I 
shall  fall  on  Bliicher." 

The  young  man's  eyes  sparkled.  He  had  been 
bending  over  the  map.  He  drew  himself  up  and 
saluted. 

"It  is  the  Emperor  at  his  best,"  he  said. 

"You  have  studied  the  art  of  war,  young  sir?" 

"I  have  read  every  one  of  your  majesty's  cam 
paigns." 

"And  you  see  what  I  would  do?" 

"Not  altogether,  but " 

"Fall  upon  the  flank  of  the  unsuspecting  Prus 
sian,  burst  through  his  line,  break  his  center,  turn 


THE  EMPEROR  AT  BAY          45 

to  the  right  or  left,  beat  him  in  detail,  drive  him 
back,  relieve  Paris,  and  then " 

"And  then,  Sire?" 

"Come  back  and  do  the  same  thing  with 
Schwarzenberg!" 

"Your  majesty!"  cried  the  young  soldier,  as  the 
whole  mighty  plan  was  made  clear  to  him. 

"Ha!  It  brightens  your  eyes  and  flushes  your 
cheek,  does  it  not?  So  it  will  brighten  the  eyes  and 
flush  the  cheeks  of  France.  I  will  show  them.  In 
six  weeks  I  will  drive  them  across  the  Rhine.  In 
another  month  they  shall  sue  for  peace  and  the  Vis 
tula  shall  be  our  boundary." 

"What  does  your  majesty  desire  of  me?" 

"That  you  go  at  once.  Take  with  you  whomso 
ever  you  will.  Bring  or  send  me  reports.  You  are 
educated?" 

"I  was  a  student  at  your  majesty's  Military  Col 
lege,"  answered  the  young  man. 

"Did  you  finish  there?" 

"I  finished  in  your  majesty's  army  last  year." 

"How  old  are  you?" 

"Twenty-two,  Sire." 

"You  belong  to  the  foot,  but  you  can  ride?" 

"Anything." 

"Marshal  Berthier  will  give  you  horses.  I  shall 
be  at  Sezanne  the  day  after  to-morrow  night.  You 
will  have  news  for  me  then?" 

"Or  be  dead,  Sire." 

"I  have  no  use  for  dead  men.  Don't  get  yourself 
taken.  Any  fool  can  die,  or  be  made  prisoner.  It  is 
a  wise  man  who  can  live  for  me  and  France." 


46    THE  EAGLE  OF  THE  EMPIRE 

"I  shall  live/'  said  the  young  man  simply.  "Have 
you  any  further  command,  Sire?" 

"None." 

The  hand  of  Marteau  was  raised  in  salute. 

"Stop,"  said  the  Emperor,  as  the  soldier  turned  to 
the  door. 

"Sire?" 

"Come  back  with  news,  and  let  us  but  escape 
from  this  tightening  coil,  and  you  shall  be  a  lieuten 
ant  colonel  in  my  guard." 

"I  will  do  it  for  love  of  your  majesty  alone,"  cried 
the  soldier,  turning  away. 

It  was  not  nearly  dawn  before  Berthier  and  Ma- 
ret,  who  had  been  pondering  over  the  dispatch  to 
Caulaincourt,  who  was  fighting  the  envoys  of  the 
allies  at  the  Congress  at  Chatillon,  ventured  to  in 
trude  upon  the  Emperor.  Having  come  to  his  deci 
sion,  as  announced  to  the  young  soldier,  who  had  got 
his  horses  and  his  comrade  and  gone,  the  Emperor, 
with  that  supreme  command  of  himself  which  few 
men  possessed,  had  at  last  got  a  few  hours  of  rest. 
He  had  dressed  himself  with  the  assistance  of  his 
faithful  valet,  Constant,  who  had  given  him  a  bath 
and  shaved  him,  and  he  now  confronted  the  two 
astonished  marshals  with  an  air  serene — even 
cheerful. 

"Dispatches!"  he  said,  as  they  approached  him. 
"It  is  a  question  of  a  very  different  matter.  Tell 
Caulaincourt  to  prolong  the  negotiations,  but  to  con 
cede  nothing,  to  commit  me  to  nothing.  I  am  going 
to  beat  Bliicher.  If  I  succeed,  the  state  of  affairs 
will  entirely  change,  and  we  shall  see  what  we  shall 


THE  EMPEROR  AT  BAY         47 

see.  Tell  Marmont  to  give  orders  for  his  corps  to 
march  immediately  after  they  get  some  breakfast. 
No,  they  may  not  wait  till  morning.  Fortune  has 
given  the  Prussians  into  my  hands.  Write  to  my 
brother  in  Paris;  tell  him  that  he  may  expect  news 
from  us  of  the  most  important  character  in  forty- 
eight  hours.  Let  the  Parisians  continue  their  mise 
reres  and  their  forty-hour-long  prayers  for  the  pres 
ent.  We'll  soon  give  them  something  else  to  think 
of." 

"But,  Sire "  feebly  interposed  Berthier. 

"Do  as  I  tell  you,"  said  the  Emperor,  good-humor- 
edly,  "and  leave  the  rest  to  me."  He  was  hi  a  mood 
apparently  that  nothing  could  dash  that  morning. 
"And  you  will  be  as  much  surprised  as  the  Prus 
sians,  and  I  believe  that  nobody  can  be  more  amazed 
than  they  will  be." 


CHAPTER  III 

THE  ARMY   MARCHES  AWAY 

GALLANTLY  on  his  errand  rode  young  Marteau. 
Napoleon's  order  to  Berthier,  by  him  transmitted 
down  the  line,  had  secured  four  of  the  best  horses 
in  the  army  for  his  messengers.  For  young  Mar 
teau  went  not  alone.  With  him  rode  a  tall  grena 
dier  of  the  Imperial  Guard,  whose  original  name  had 
been  lost,  or  forgot,  in  a  sobriquet  which  fitted  him 
perfectly,  and  which  he  had  richly  earned  in  a  long 
career  as  a  soldier.  They  called  him  "Bullet  Stop 
per,"  "Balle-Arretante,"  the  curious  compound  ran 
in  French,  and  the  soldiers  clipped  it  and  condensed 
it  into  "Bal-Arret!"  He  used  to  boast  that  he  had 
been  wounded  in  every  country  in  Europe  and  in 
Asia  and  Africa  as  well.  He  had  been  hit  more  times 
than  any  soldier  high  or  low  in  the  army.  He  had 
distinguished  himself  by  valor,  and,  but  for  his  hum 
ble  extraction  and  meager  education,  might  have 
risen  to  a  high  command.  As  it  was,  he  was  person 
ally  known  to  the  Emperor,  and  was  accounted  as 
one  of  the  favorite  soldiers  of  the  army. 

He,  too,  had  been  a  dweller  on  the  Aumenier  es 
tates.  It  was  his  tales  of  adventure  which  had  kin 
dled  the  martial  spirit  in  young  Marteau,  whom  he 
had  known  from  his  birth.  A  warm  friendship  sub- 

48 


THE  EMPEROR  AT  BAY          49 

sisted  between  the  young  officer  and  the  old  soldier, 
which  no  difference  in  rank  or  station  could  ever 
impair.  When  the  Emperor  had  given  him  leave 
to  take  with  him  whomsoever  he  would,  his  thoughts 
had  at  once  turned  to  old  Bullet  Stopper.  The  lat 
ter  had  gladly  accepted  the  invitation. 

Behold  him  now,  his  huge  body  astride  of  an 
enormous  horse — for,  although  the  grenadier  was  a 
foot-soldier,  he  could  still  ride  after  a  fashion — plod 
ding  along  through  the  mud  and  the  wet  and  the 
cold  on  the  mission  which,  if  successful,  would  per 
haps  enable  Napoleon  to  save  the  army  and  France, 
to  say  nothing  of  his  throne  and  his  family. 

Captain  Marteau,  or  Major  Marteau,  to  give  him 
his  new  title,  had  said  nothing  as  to  the  nature  of 
his  mission,  upon  which  they  had  been  dispatched, 
to  the  humble  comrade,  the  faithful  follower  who 
accompanied  him.  He  had  only  told  him  that  it 
was  difficult,  dangerous,  and  of  vital  importance,  and 
he  had  explained  to  him  that  his  familiarity  with 
the  country,  as  well  as  a  warm-hearted  admiration 
and  respect  for  his  shrewdness  and  skill  and  cour 
age,  had  caused  his  selection.  That  was  enough  for 
the  old  soldier;  dangers,  difficulties,  were  as  the 
breath  of  life  to  the  veteran.  And  he  was  always 
happy  to  follow  Marteau,  in  whose  career  he  took 
an  interest  almost  fatherly. 

The  weather  was  frightful.  It  had  snowed  and 
then  thawed.  The  temperature  was  now  just  above 
the  freezing  point.  The  rough  wind  was  raw,  the 
fierce  winter  gale  was  laden  with  wet  snow.  The 
roads,  like  all  country  cross-roads  in  France,  or  any- 


50    THE  EAGLE  OF  THE  EMPIRE 

where  else,  for  that  matter,  in  that  day,  were  a  sea 
of  mud.  It  was  well  that  the  pair  had  brought  two 
extra  horses.  By  changing  mounts  from  time  to 
time  they  were  enabled  to  spare  their  beasts  and 
make  the  greater  speed.  The  Emperor  had  im 
pressed  upon  his  young  aide  the  necessity  for  getting 
the  information  to  him  at  the  earliest  possible  mo 
ment.  Haste  was  everything.  So  they  pressed  on. 

Without  waiting  for  their  report,  and  presuming 
on  his  general  knowledge  of  Bliicher's  character  and 
shrewdly  deducing  the  exact  state  of  affairs  Na 
poleon  was  already  acting  as  if  he  possessed  absolute 
and  accurate  information.  The  drums  were  beating 
the  long  roll  as  they  rode  through  the  still  dark 
streets  of  the  little  town  of  Nogent.  Horses  were 
being  harnessed  to  guns,  baggage  wagons  were  being 
loaded,  ammunition  caissons  were  being  got  ready. 
The  troops  were  assembling  out  of  houses  and  tents, 
and  coming  from  around  fires,  where  many  of  them 
had  passed  an  unsheltered  night. 

There  was  little  of  the  joy,  the  gaiety,  the  elan 
of  the  French  soldier,  to  be  seen  in  the  faces  of  the 
men  thus  summoned  to  the  Eagles.  They  came,  in 
deed,  they  answered  the  call,  but  with  black  looks 
and  sullen  faces  and  a  manner  almost  despairing. 
They  had  fought  and  fought  and  fought.  They  had 
been  beaten  back  and  back  and  back,  and  when  they 
had  not  been  fighting  they  had  been  retreating. 
And  always  they  were  hungry.  And  always  they 
were  cold. 

The  enormous  armies  of  Schwarzenberg  had  been 
extended  on  either  side.  They  were  constantly 


THE  EMPEROR  AT  BAY          51 

threatened  with  being  outflanked.  Most  of  them 
were  young  soldiers,  weary  and  dispirited,  and  many 
of  them  unarmed.  Every  battle  had  reduced  the 
stock  of  good  muskets.  Many  of  those  still  in  pos 
session  of  the  troops  had  been  ruined  by  their  un 
skillful  handling. 

The  supply  of  regimental  officers  was  utterly  in 
adequate  to  the  demand.  The  bravest  and  the  best 
are  usually  the  first  to  fall;  the  boldest  and  most 
venturesome  the  most  liable  to  capture.  Perhaps, 
if  the  Emperor  had  broken  up  his  guard  and  dis 
tributed  the  veterans  among  the  raw  troops,  the 
effect  might  have  been  better,  but  in  that  case  he 
would  have  destroyed  his  main  reliance  in  his  army. 
No,  it  was  better  to  keep  the  guard  together  at  all 
hazards.  It  had  already  been  drawn  heavily  upon 
for  officers  for  other  corps. 

War  was  popularly  supposed  to  be  a  thing  of 
dashing  adventure,  of  victory,  and  plunder.  It  had 
been  all  that  before.  Experience  had  thrust  them  all 
unprepared  face  to  face  with  the  naked  reality 
of  defeat,  disease,  weary  marches  over  awful  roads 
in  freezing  cold,  in  drifting  snow,  or  in  sodden  mire. 
They  had  no  guns,  they  had  little  food,  thank  God, 
there  was  some  clothing,  such  as  it  was,  but  even 
the  best  uniforms  were  not  calculated  to  stand  such 
strains  as  had  been  imposed  upon  these. 

Only  the  old  guard,  staunch,  stern,  splendid,  in 
domitable,  a  magnificent  body  of  men,  held  the  army 
together — they  and  the  cavalry.  Murat,  peerless 
horseman,  was  playing  the  traitor  to  save  his 
wretched  Neapolitan  throne.  But  Grouchy,  Nan- 


52    THE  EAGLE  OF  THE  EMPIRE 

souty,  Sebastian!  and  others  remained.  Conditions 
were  bad  in  the  cavalry,  but  they  were  not  so  bad 
as  they  were  in  the  infantry.  And  Druot  of  the 
artillery  also  kept  it  together  in  the  retreat.  Guns, 
cannon,  were  more  precious  almost  than  men. 

Now  early  that  morning,  while  it  was  yet  dark, 
they  were  called  up  from  their  broken  sleep  to  un 
dertake  what  to  them  was  another  purposeless 
march.  Even  the  Eagles  drooped  in  the  hands  of 
their  bearers.  The  soldiers  did  not  know,  they  could 
not  see.  The  great  high  roads  that  led  to  Paris 
were  being  abandoned ;  they  were  plunging  into  un 
fathomable  morasses;  they  were  being  led  through 
dark,  gloomy,  dreadful  woods  to  the  northward. 
Where?  For  what  purpose?  The  dumb,  wrathful, 
insubordinate,  despairful  army  indeed  moved  at  the 
will  of  its  master,  but  largely  because  it  realized 
that  it  could  not  stay  where  it  was,  and  largely  be 
cause  it  was  better  to  move  on  and  die  than  to  lie 
down  and  die.  They  were  at  least  warmer  on  the 
march ! 

The  spirit  of  the  guard  and  of  the  subordinate 
officers,  say  from  the  colonels  down,  was  good 
enough,  but  the  generals  and  the  marshals  were  sick 
of  fighting.  They  had  had  enough  of  it.  They  had 
gained  all  that  they  could  gain  in  their  world-wide 
campaigns,  in  fame,  money,  titles,  estates.  They 
had  everything  to  lose  and  nothing  to  win.  They 
wanted  rest,  an  opportunity  to  enjoy.  Some  of 
them  were  devoted  to  the  Emperor,  in  fact,  all  of 
them  were,  but  their  own  comfort  and  self-interest 
bulked  larger  and  larger  before  them.  They  saw 


THE  EMPEROR  AT  BAY          53 

nothing  but  defeat  at  the  end  of  their  endeavors,  and 
they  wanted  to  negotiate  peace  with  such  honor  as 
could  be  had  while  they  were  still  a  force  to  be  reck 
oned  with. 

Their  unwillingness  and  mutinous  spirit,  however, 
had  not  yet  reached  its  highest  development.  That 
came  later,  and  brought  treachery  in  its  train.  The 
awful  will  of  the  Emperor  still  overruled  them. 
Wrathfully,  insubordinately,  protestingly,  they  still 
marched  when  he  gave  the  word. 

The  Emperor  had  been  working  with  that  furious 
concentration  which  he  alone  of  all  men  seemed  to 
be  able  to  bring  about,  and  which  was  one  of  the 
secrets  of  his  power.  Orders  borne  by  couriers  had 
streamed  in  all  directions  over  the  roads.  Napoleon 
was  about  to  undertake  the  most  daring  and  mar 
velous  campaign  of  his  whole  history.  The  stimulus 
of  despair,  the  certainty  of  ruin  unless  the  advance 
of  the  allies  could  be  stayed,  had  at  last  awakened 
his  dormant  energies,  filled  his  veins  with  the  fire 
of  youth  and  spring. 

With  that  comprehensive  eye  which  made  him 
the  master  of  battlefields  and  nations  he  had  for- 
seen  everything.  Soldiers  were  coming  from  Spain. 
He  had  given  instructions  to  magnify  their  number 
and  their  strength.  He  shrewdly  surmised  that  their 
appearance  on  the  left  flank  would  cause  the  cau 
tious  Schwarzenberg  to  pause,  to  withdraw  his  flank 
ers,  to  mass  to  meet  them.  There  would  be  a  halt 
in  the  advance.  The  allies  still  feared  the  Em 
peror.  Although  much  of  his  prestige  was  gone, 
they  never  made  little  of  Napoleon.  He  intended 


54    THE  EAGLE  OF  THE  EMPIRE 

to  leave  some  of  the  best  troops  to  confront  Schwar- 
zenberg  between  Nogent  and  Montereau,  under  Vic 
tor  and  Oudinot,  hard  fighters  both,  with  instruc 
tions  not  to  engage  in  any  decisive  battle,  not  to 
allow  themselves  to  be  trapped  into  that,  but  to 
stand  on  the  defensive,  to  hold  the  River  Seine,  to 
retreat  foot  by  foot,  if  pressed,  to  take  advantage 
of  every  cover,  to  hold  the  enemy  in  check,  to  con 
test  every  foot  of  the  way,  to  assume  a  strength 
which  they  did  not  have. 

He  promised  that  so  soon  as  he  had  fallen  upon 
Bliicher  he  would  send  the  news  and  see  that  it  got 
to  Schwarzenberg  and  the  allied  monarchs  who  were 
with  him.  Reverses  which  he  hoped  to  inflict  on  the 
Prussian  Field  Marshal  would  increase  the  Austrian 
hesitation.  The  Emperor  believed  that  the  pressure 
by  Oudinot  and  Victor  would  be  effective.  They 
would  draw  in  their  columns  and  concentrate. 

After  he  had  finished  with  Bliicher  and  his  army, 
he  intended  to  retrace  his  steps  and  do  the  same 
thing  with  Schwarzenberg.  Of  course,  if  he  failed 
with  Bliicher  it  was  all  over.  He  was  the  last  hope 
of  France — he  and  his  army.  If  his  magnificent  dash 
at  the  Prussians  and  Russians  was  not  successful, 
nothing  could  delay  the  end.  Napoleon  was  staking 
all  on  the  throw,  taking  the  gambler's  chance,  taking 
it  recklessly,  accepting  the  hazard,  but  neglecting  no 
means  to  insure  the  winning  of  the  game. 

The  Emperor  flung  a  screen  of  cavalry  in  front 
of  Marmont,  to  patrol  every  village,  to  control  every 
farmhouse,  to  see  that  no  news  of  his  advance  came 
to  the  unsuspecting  old  Prussian.  And  then  he 


THE  EMPEROR  AT  BAY          55 

himself  stayed  back  in  Nogent  to  see  his  own  orders 
carried  out.  He  personally  inspected  every  division, 
as  it  marched  to  the  front  through  the  waning  night, 
the  cheerless  dawn,  the  gray  dark  day.  It  cut  him 
to  the  heart  to  see  his  soldiers  go  so  silently  and  so 
sullenly.  Here  and  there  a  regiment  did  cry:  "Vive 
I'Empereur" ;  here  and  there  a  voice  sounded  it,  but 
in  the  main  the  men  marched  dumbly,  doggedly.  It 
was  only  the  old  guard  that  gave  him  the  imperial 
salute  in  full  voice  in  the  old  way. 

Nothing  indicated  to  the  Emperor  more  thor 
oughly  the  temper  of  the  soldiers  than  that  open 
indifference.  Why,  even  in  Russia,  ere  their  stif 
fened  lips  froze  into  silence,  they  had  breathed  out 
the  old  acclaim.  The  Emperor  remembered  that 
grenadier  who,  when  told  by  the  surgeon  that  he 
feared  to  probe  for  a  ball  that  had  pierced  his  breast 
because  he  did  not  know  what  he  would  find,  "If 
you  probe  deep  enough  to  reach  my  heart,"  said 
the  soldier  with  his  dying  breath,  "you  will  find  the 
Emperor." 

Grave-faced  and  frowning,  shivering  from  time  to 
time  in  the  fierce,  raw  cold,  the  Emperor  watched 
the  troops  march  by.  Well,  the  day  after  to-morrow, 
if  there  were  any  left,  they  would  acclaim  him  loud 
enough.  The  Emperor  was  cold  and  cynical.  He 
had  never  allowed  the  life  of  men  to  stand  in  the 
way  of  his  desires,  but  even  his  iron  nerve,  his  icy 
indifference  had  been  shaken.  He  gave  no  outward 
evidence  of  it,  but  in  his  heart  he  realized  more 
plainly  than  ever  before  that  when  these  were  gone 


56    THE  EAGLE  OF  THE  EMPIRE 

there  were  no  more.  And  so,  perhaps,  his  shudder 
was  not  altogether  due  to  the  cold. 

Whatever  his  emotions,  he  steeled  his  heart,  he 
made  his  preparations  for  the  last  try  with  fortune, 
the  last  card  to  be  played,  the  last  die  to  be  thrown. 
What  would  be  the  end  of  it?  What  would  be  the 
result  of  that  final  desperate  game?  The  Emperor 
was  a  master  player — could  even  his  finesse  and  skill 
and  talent  and  genius  make  up  for  the  poor  hand 
that  had  been  dealt  him  because  the  pack  had  been 
so  drawn  upon  that  the  good  cards  had  been  ex 
hausted,  used  up,  long  since? 

Did  the  Emperor  realize  that  even  he  was  not 
what  he  had  been?  Did  he  comprehend  that  he  was 
no  longer  the  soldier,  the  man,  of  the  past?  Did 
he  realize  that  at  last  he  had  tried  the  patience  of 
that  fortune  he  had  worshiped,  beyond  the  limit; 
and  that  whatever  favor  might  be  vouchsafed  him 
would  only  delay  the  end? 

The  boys  might  march  and  fight,  the  old  guard 
might  sustain  its  ancient  fame,  the  genius  of  the 
Emperor  might  flash  out  in  full  effulgence  once 
more — and  it  would  make  no  difference.  The  stars 
on  their  courses  fought  against  Sisera.  The  doom 
sentence  was  written.  Postponement  he  might  look 
forward  to,  but  no  final  stay  of  judgment!  A  few 
thousand  more  lives  he  might  throw  away,  but  these 
late  sacrifices  would  avail  nothing.  Oh,  no;  the 
Emperor's  shudder  was  not  altogether  due  to  the 
cold  that  winter  morning. 


CHAPTER  IV 

MARTEAU  AND  BAL-ARRET  RIDE 

OF  this  young  Marteau  and  old  Bullet  Stopper, 
plodding  along  at  the  best  speed  they  could  get  from 
their  horses,  knew  nothing.  The  old  grenadier  was 
laconic  by  nature,  and  his  habit  of  silence  had  be 
come  intensified  by  his  years  of  subordination  and 
service.  The  young  officer  was  wrapped  in  his  own 
thoughts.  Knowing,  as  they  did,  every  foot  of  the 
way,  the  two  were  able  to  find  short  cuts,  take 
advantage  of  narrow  paths  over  the  hills  and 
through  the  woods,  which  would  have  offered  no 
passage  to  the  army,  even  if  they  had  been  aware 
of  it.  They  reached  Sezanne  hours  before  Mar- 
mont's  advance,  long  before  the  cavalry  even. 

Baiting  their  horses,  and  getting  a  welcome  meal 
at  the  inn — the  town  itself  had  as  yet  suffered  noth 
ing  from  the  ravages  of  the  Cossacks,  being  too 
strong  for  raiding  parties — and  refusing  to  answer 
questions,  and  paying  no  attention  to  wondering 
looks  of  the  inhabitants,  they  rode  out  again.  Their 
way  through  the  marshes  of  St.  Gond  was  dreadful. 
If  only  the  weather  would  change,  the  ground  would 
freeze,  how  welcome  would  be  the  altered  condi 
tions.  But  the  half  snow,  the  half  rain,  still  beat 
down  upon  them.  Their  poor  beasts  were  almost 

57 


58    THE  EAGLE  OF  THE  EMPIRE 

exhausted.  They  broke  the  ice  of  the  Grand  Moriri 
river  to  get  water  for  the  horses  and  themselves, 
and,  not  daring  to  kindle  a  fire,  for  they  were  ap 
proaching  the  country  occupied  by  Bliicher,  they 
made  a  scanty  meal  from  their  haversacks. 

They  had  found  the  farmhouses  and  chateaux 
deserted,  evidences  of  hasty  flight  and  plunder  on 
every  side.  The  Cossacks  had  swept  through  the 
land  beyond  the  town.  The  people  who  could  had 
fled  to  Sezanne,  or  had  gone  westward  hurriedly,  to 
escape  the  raiders.  In  the  ruined  villages  and  farms 
they  came  across  many  dead  bodies  of  old  women, 
old  men  and  children,  with  here  and  there  a  younger 
woman  whose  awful  fate  filled  the  old  soldier  and 
the  young  alike  with  grim  and  passionate  rage. 

"Yonder,"  said  Marteau,  gloomily  pointing  west 
ward  through  the  darkness,  "lies  Aumenier  and  my 
father's  house." 

"And  mine,"  added  Bullet-Stopper. 

There  was  no  need  to  express  the  thought  fur 
ther,  to  dilate  upon  it.  It  had  been  the  Emperor's 
maxim  that  war  should  support  war.  His  armies 
had  lived  off  the  country.  The  enemy  had  taken 
a  leaf  out  of  his  own  book.  Even  the  stupid  could 
not  fight  forever  against  Napoleon  without  learning 
something.  The  allies  ate  up  the  land,  ravaged  it, 
turned  it  into  a  desert — lex  talionis! 

Marteau's  father  still  lived,  with  his  younger  sis 
ter.  Old  Bullet-Stopper  was  alone  in  the  world  but 
for  his  friends.  What  had  happened  in  that  little 
village  yonder?  What  was  going  on  in  the  great 
chateau,  so  long  closed,  now  finally  abandoned  by 


THE  EMPEROR  AT  BAY          59 

the  proud  royalist  family  which  had  owned  it  and 
had  owned  Marteau  and  old  Bullet-Stopper,  and  all 
the  rest  of  the  villagers,  for  that  matter,  for  eight 
hundred  years,  or  until  the  revolution  had  set  them, 
free? 

Plunged  in  those  gloomy  thoughts  the  young  offi 
cer  involuntarily  took  a  step  in  the  direction  of  that 
village. 

"On  the  Emperor's  service,"  said  the  grenadier 
sternly,  catching  his  young  comrade  by  the  arm. 
"Later,"  he  continued,  "we  may  go." 

"You're  right,"  said  Marteau.    "Let  us  move  on." 

Whether  it  was  because  the  roads  really  were  in 
a  worse  condition  because  of  that  fact  that  they  ran 
through  marshy  country,  or  whether  it  was  because 
the  men  were  worn  out  and  their  horses  more  so, 
they  made  the  slowest  progress  of  the  day.  They 
plodded  on  determinedly  through  the  night.  The 
two  weaker  horses  of  the  four  finally  gave  way  under 
the  strain.  Husbanding  the  remaining  two  with 
the  greatest  care,  the  two  soldiers,  passing  through 
the  deserted  villages  of  St.  Prix,  on  the  Little  Morin, 
and  Baye,  finally  reached  the  great  highroad  which 
ran  through  Champaubert,  Vauxchamps  and  Mont- 
mirail,  toward  Paris,  and  which,  owing  to  a  north 
ward  bend  of  the  river,  crossed  the  country  some 
leagues  to  the  southward  of  the  Marne. 

Day  was  breaking  as  they  reached  the  edge  of  the 
forest  bordering  the  road,  and  from  a  rather  high 
hill  had  a  glimpse  of  a  wide  stretch  of  country  be 
fore  them.  Fortunately,  while  it  was  still  raw  and 
cold,  the  sun  came  out  and  gave  them  a  fair  view 


of  a  great  expanse  of  rolling  and  open  fields.  A 
scene  of  great  animation  was  disclosed  to  them.  The 
road  was  covered  with  squadrons  of  green-coated 
Russian  cavalry,  evidently  just  called  to  the  saddle, 
and  moving  eastward  at  a  walk  or  slow  trot.  They 
looked  like  the  advance  guard  of  some  important 
division.  There  was  a  low,  rolling  volume  of  heavy 
sound  coming  from  the  far  north,  and  in  the  rising 
sun  they  thought  they  could  distinguish  in  that 
direction  smoke,  as  from  a  battlefield.  The  sound 
itself  was  unmistakable  to  the  veteran. 

"Cannon!"  he  said.    "Fighting  there." 

"Yes,"  answered  Marteau.  "The  Emperor  said 
that  the  Prussians  and  Russians  were  pressing  the 
Duke  of  Tarentum,  Marshal  Macdonald." 

"But  what  have  we  here?"  asked  old  Bal-Arret, 
shading  his  eyes  and  peering  at  the  array  on  the  near 
road. 

A  division  of  Russians,  coming  from  a  defile  to 
the  right,  had  debouched  upon  a  broad  plateau  or 
level  upon  the  edge  of  which  the  little  village  of 
Champaubert  straggled  forlornly.  The  Cossack 
horsemen  and  the  Russian  cavalry  had  cleaned  out 
Champaubert.  There  were  no  inhabitants  left  to 
welcome  the  Russian  division,  except  dead  ones, 
who  could  offer  no  hospitality. 

The  division  was  weary  and  travel-stained,  cov 
ered  with  mud,  horses  dead  beat;  the  cannon,  huge, 
formless  masses  of  clay,  were  dragged  slowly  and 
painfully  forward.  It  was  evident  that  the  commander 
of  the  division  had  doubled  his  teams,  but  the  heavy 
guns  could  scarcely  be  moved,  even  by  twice  the 


THE  EMPEROR  AT  BAY          61 

number  of  horses  attached.  The  poor  brutes  had  no 
rest,  for,  as  fast  as  one  gun  arrived,  both  teams  were 
unhitched  and  sent  over  the  road  to  bring  up  an 
other.  A  halt  was  made  on  the  plateau.  It  was 
evident  to  the  experienced  eyes  of  the  watchers  that 
a  camp  was  about  to  be  pitched.  The  two  men 
stared  in  keen  interest,  with  eyes  alight  with  hatred. 
What  they  had  seen  in  the  country  they  had  just 
passed  intensified  that  hatred,  and  to  the  natural 
racial  antagonism,  fostered  by  years  of  war,  were 
now  added  bitter  personal  resentments. 

"That's  one  of  old  Marshal  Forward's  divisions," 
said  the  grenadier,  referring  to  Bliicher  by  his  al 
ready  accepted  name,  "but  what  one?" 

"Russians,  by  the  look  of  them,"  answered  Mar- 
teau. 

"You  say  we.ll.  I  have  seen  those  green  caps  and 
green  overcoats  before.  Umph,"  answered  Bullet- 
Stopper,  making  for  him  an  extraordinarily  long 
speech,  "it  was  colder  then  than  it  is  now,  but  we 
always  beat  them.  At  Friedland,  at  Eylau,  at  Boro 
dino,  aye,  even  at  the  Beresina.  It  was  the  cold  and 
hunger  that  beat  us.  What  wouldn't  the  guard  give 
to  be  where  we  are  now.  Look  at  them.  They  are 
so  sure  of  themselves  that  they  haven't  thrown  out 
a  picket  or  sentries." 

In  fact,  neither  Bliicher  nor  any  of  his  com 
manders  apprehended  any  danger  whatsoever.  That 
Napoleon  would  dare  to  fall  on  them  was  unthink 
able.  That  there  could  be  a  single  French  soldier 
in  their  vicinity  save  those  under  Macdonald,  being 


62    THE  EAGLE  OF  THE  EMPIRE 

hard  pressed  by  Yorck,  never  entered  anybody's 
head. 

"What  Russians  are  they,  do  you  think?"  asked 
Marteau  of  his  comrade. 

"How  should  I  know?"  growled  the  other.  "All 
Russians  are  alike  to  me,  and " 

Marteau,  however,  had  heard  discussions  during 
the  time  he  had  been  on  duty  in  Napoleon's  head 
quarters. 

"That  will  be  Sacken's  corps,  unless  I  am  very 
much  mistaken,"  he  said. 

"And  those  up  yonder  toward  Epernay,  where 
the  firing  comes  from?"  asked  the  grenadier. 

Marteau  shook  his  head. 

"We  must  find  out,"  was  the  answer. 

"Yes,  but  how?" 

"I  don't  know." 

"There  is  only  one  way,"  continued  Bal-Arret. 

"And  that  is?" 

"To  go  over  there,  and " 

"In  these  uniforms?"  observed  the  young  officer. 
"We  should  be  shot  as  soon  as  we  should  appear, 
and  questioned  afterward." 

"Yes,  if  there  was  anything  left  to  question," 
growled  the  grenadier.  "The  Russians  will  do  some 
scouting.  Perhaps  some  of  them  will  come  here.  If 
so,  we  will  knock  them  on  the  head  and  take  their 
uniforms,  wait  until  nightfall,  slip  through  the  lines, 
find  out  what  we  can,  and  go  back  and  tell  the  Em 
peror.  It  is  very  simple." 

"Quite  so,"  laughed  the  young  officer;  "if  we  can 
catch  two  Russians,  if  their  uniforms  will  fit  us,  if  we 


63 

can  get  through,  if  we  can  find  out,  if  we  can  get 
back.  Do  you  speak  Russian,  Bal-Arret?" 

"Not  a  word." 

"Prussian?" 

"Enough  to  pass  myself  through  I  guess,  and " 

"Hush,"  said  the  young  man,  as  three  Russians 
suddenly  appeared  out  of  a  little  ravine  on  the  edge 
of  the  wood. 

They  had  come  on  a  foraging  expedition,  and  had 
been  successful,  apparently,  for,  tied  to  a  musket  and 
carried  between  two  of  the  men  was  a  dead  pig. 
How  it  had  escaped  the  Cossack  raiders  of  the  day 
before  was  a  mystery.  They  were  apparently  com 
ing  farther  into  the  forest  for  firewood  with  which 
to  roast  the  animal.  Perhaps,  as  the  pig  was  small, 
and,  as  they  were  doubtless  hungry,  they  did  not 
wish  their  capture  to  be  widely  known.  At  any  rate, 
they  came  cautiously  up  a  ravine  and  had  not  been 
noticed  until  their  heads  rose  above  it.  They  saw 
the  two  Frenchmen  just  about  as  soon  as  they  were 
seen.  The  third  man,  whose  arms  were  free,  imme 
diately  presented  his  piece  and  pulled  the  trigger. 
Fortunately  it  missed  fire.  If  it  had  gone  off  it 
might  have  attracted  the  attention  of  the  Russian 
outposts,  investigations  would  have  been  instituted, 
and  all  chance  of  passing  the  lines  there  would  have 
been  over. 

At  the  same  time  he  pulled  the  trigger  he  fell  like 
a  log.  The  grenadier,  who  had  thrust  into  his  belt 
a  heavy  knife,  picked  up  from  some  murdered  woods 
man  on  the  journey,  had  drawn  it,  seized  it  by  the 
blade,  and,  with  a  skill  born  of  olden  peasant  days, 


64    THE  EAGLE  OF  THE  EMPIRE 

had  hurled  it  at  the  Russian.  The  blade  struck  the 
man  fairly  in  the  face,  and  the  sharp  weapon 
plunged  into  the  man  to  the  hilt.  He  threw  up  his 
hands,  his  gun  dropped,  he  crashed  down  into  the 
ravine  stone  dead.  The  next  second  the  two  French 
men  had  seized  the  two  Russians.  The  latter  were 
taken  at  a  disadvantage.  They  had  retained  their 
clutch  on  the  gun-sling  carrying  the  pig,  and,  before 
they  realized  what  was  toward — they  were  slow 
thinkers  both — a  pair  of  hands  was  clasped  around 
each  throat.  The  Russians  were  big  men,  and  they 
struggled  hard.  A  silent,  terrible  battle  was  waged 
under  the  trees,  but,  try  as  they  would,  the  Russians 
could  not  get  release  from  the  terrible  grasp  of  the 
Frenchmen.  The  breath  left  their  bodies,  their  eyes 
protruded,  their  faces  turned  black. 

Marteau  suddenly  released  his  prisoner,  who 
dropped  heavily  to  the  ground.  To  bind  him  with 
his  own  breast  and  gun  straps  and  belt  was  a  work 
of  a  few  moments.  When  he  had  finished  he  tore  a 
piece  of  cloth  from  the  coat  of  the  soldier  and 
thrust  it  into  his  mouth  to  gag  him.  The  grenadier 
had  a  harder  time  with  his  enemy,  who  was  the 
bigger  of  the  two  men,  but  he,  too,  mastered  him, 
and  presently  both  prisoners  lay  helpless,  bound  and 
gagged.  The  two  Frenchmen  rose  and  stared  at  each 
other,  a  merry  twinkle  in  the  eyes  of  old  Bullet- 
Stopper,  a  very  puzzled  expression  in  those  of  the 
young  soldier. 

"Well,  here's  our  disguise,"  said  the  old  soldier. 

"Quite  so,"  interposed  the  officer.  "But  what  shall 
we  do  with  these  two?" 


THE  EMPEROR  AT  BAY          65 

"Nothing  simpler.  Knock  them  in  the  head  after 
we  have  found  out  what  we  can  from  them, 
and " 

But  Marteau  shook  his  head. 

"I  can't  murder  helpless  prisoners,"  he  said  de 
cisively. 

"If  you  had  seen  what  they  did  to  us  in  Russia 
you  wouldn't  have  any  hesitation  on  that  score," 
growled  the  grenadier.  "I  had  comrades  whom  they 
stripped  naked  and  turned  loose  in  the  snow.  Some 
of  them  they  buried  alive,  some  they  gave  to  the 
wolves,  some  they  burned  to  death.  I  have  no  more 
feeling  for  them  than  I  have  for  reptiles  or  devils." 

"I  can't  do  it,"  said  the  younger  soldier  stub 
bornly.  "We  must  think  of  some  other  way." 

Old  Bullet-Stopper  stood  frowning,  trying  to  think 
of  some  argument  by  which  to  overcome  these  fool 
ish  scruples,  when  an  idea  came  to  his  friend. 

"About  half  a  mile  back  we  passed  a  deserted 
house.  Let's  take  them  there  and  leave  them.  There 
will  probably  be  ropes  or  straps.  We  can  bind  them. 
They  will  be  sheltered  and  perhaps  somebody  may 
come  along  and  release  them." 

"Yes,  doubtless  somebody  will,"  said  the  grena 
dier  gravely,  thinking  that  if  somebody  proved  to  be 
a  peasant  their  release  would  be  an  eternal  one,  and 
glad  in  the  thought.  "Very  well,  you  are  in  com 
mand.  Give  your  order." 

At  Marteau's  direction  the  straps  around  the  feet 
of  the  men  were  loosened,  they  were  compelled  to 
get  up;  they  had  been  disarmed,  of  course,  and  by 
signs  they  were  made  to  march  in  the  required  direc- 


66    THE  EAGLE  OF  THE  EMPIRE 

tion.  Casting  a  backward  glance  over  the  encamp 
ment,  to  see  whether  the  absence  of  the  three  had 
been  noticed,  and,  discerning  no  excitement  of  any 
sort,  Marteau  followed  the  grenadier  and  the  two 
prisoners.  Half  a  mile  back  in  the  woods  stood  the 
hut.  It  was  a  stoutly  built  structure,  of  logs  and 
stone.  A  little  clearing  lay  around  it.  For  a  wonder 
it  had  not  been  burned  or  broken  down,  although 
everything  had  been  cleaned  out  of  it  by  raiders. 
The  door  swung  idly  on  its  hinges.  The  two  Rus 
sians  were  forced  to  enter  the  hut.  They  were 
bound  with  ropes,  of  which  there  happened  to  be 
some  hanging  from  a  nail,  the  door  was  closed,  huge 
sticks  from  a  surrounding  fence  were  driven  into 
the  ground  against  it,  so  that  it  could  not  be  opened 
from  the  inside,  and  the  men  were  left  to  their  own 
devices. 

As  neither  Frenchman  spoke  Russian,  and  as  the 
Russians  understood  neither  French  nor  Prussian, 
conversation  was  impossible.  Everything  had  to  be 
done  by  signs. 

"I  wouldn't  give  much  for  their  chance,  shut  up 
in  that  house  in  this  wood,"  said  the  grenadier,  as 
the  two  walked  away. 

"Nor  I,"  answered  Marteau.  "But  at  least  we 
haven't  killed  them." 

The  two  Frenchmen  now  presented  a  very  differ 
ent  appearance.  Before  they  left  the  hut  they  had 
taken  off  their  own  great  coats,  the  bearskin  shako 
of  the  grenadier,  and  the  high,  flat-topped,  bell- 
crowned  cap  of  the  line  regiment  of  the  officer.  In 
place  of  these  they  wore  the  flat  Russian  caps  and 


THE  EMPEROR  AT  BAY          67 

the  long  Russian  overcoats.  Bal-Arret  might  serve 
for  a  passable  Russian,  but  no  one  could  mistake 
Marteau  for  anything  but  a  Frenchman.  Still,  it 
had  to  be  chanced. 

The  two  retraced  their  steps  and  came  to  the  ra 
vine,  where  the  dead  Russian  lay.  They  had  no 
interest  in  him,  save  the  grenadier's  desire  to  get 
his  knife  back.  It  had  served  him  well,  it  might  be 
useful  again.  But  they  had  a  great  interest  hi  the 
pig.  Their  exhausted  horses  were  now  useless,  and 
they  had  thought  they  would  have  to  kill  one  to  get 
something  to  eat.  But  the  pig,  albeit  he  was  a  lean 
one,  was  a  treasure  indeed.  To  advance  upon  the 
Russian  line  in  broad  daylight  would  have  been  mad 
ness.  Darkness  was  their  only  hope.  Reaching 
down  into  the  ravine,  the  grenadier  hoisted  the 
body  of  the  poor  pig  to  his  comrade,  and  the  two  of 
them  lugged  it  back  far  in  the  woods  where  it  was 
safe  to  kindle  a  fire.  With  flint  and  steel  and  tinder, 
they  soon  had  a  blaze  going  in  the  sequestered  hol 
low  they  had  chosen,  and  the  smell  of  savory  roast 
presently  delighted  their  fancy.  They  ate  their  fill 
for  the  first  time  in  weeks  be  it  remarked.  If  they 
only  had  a  bottle  of  the  famous  wine  of  the  country 
to  wash  it  down  they  would  have  feasted  like  kings. 

"So  far,"  said  the  grenadier,  when  he  could  eat 
no  more,  "our  expedition  has  been  successful.  If 
those  youngsters  down  at  Nogent  could  only  smell 
this  pig  there  would  be  no  holding  them." 

"I  think  it  would  be  well  to  cook  as  much  of  it  as 
we  can  carry  with  us.  I  don't  know  when  we  may 
get  any  more." 


68    THE  EAGLE  OF  THE  EMPIRE 

"That  is  well  thought  on,"  agreed  the  old  soldier. 
"Always  provide  for  the  next  meal  when  you  can." 

"And,  with  what's  left,  as  we  can't  be  far  from 
the  hut,  we'll  give  those  two  poor  Russians  some 
thing  to  eat." 

"You're  too  tender-hearted,  my  lad,"  said  Bullet- 
Stopper,  his  face  clouded,  "ever  to  be  a  great  soldier, 
I  am  afraid." 

On  an  expedition  of  this  kind  rank  was  forgotten, 
and  the  humble  subordinate  again  assumed  the  role 
of  the  advisor.  Marteau  laughed. 

"Rather  than  let  them  starve  I  would  knock  them 
in  the  head,"  he  said. 

"That's  what  I  wanted  to  do,"  growled  the  other 
savagely. 

When  it  came  to  the  issue,  however,  he  really  did 
respect  the  rank  of  his  young  friend.  Accordingly, 
pieces  of  the  roast  pig  were  taken  to  the  hut  and 
placed  in  reach  of  the  prisoners,  who  were  found 
bound  as  before  and  looking  very  miserable.  Yet 
there  was  something  suspicious  in  their  attitude. 
The  old  grenadier  turned  one  of  them  over  and  dis 
covered  that  one  had  endeavored  to  free  the  other 
by  gnawing  at  the  ropes.  Not  much  progress  had 
been  made  in  the  few  hours  that  had  elapsed,  but 
still  it  was  evident  that  the  rope  would  eventually  be 
bitten  through  and  the  men  freed.  He  pointed  this 
out  to  his  officer. 

"Better  finish  them  now,"  he  said. 

But  Marteau  shook  his  head. 

"It  will  take  them  all  day  and  night  to  get  free  at 


THE  EMPEROR  AT  BAY          69 

that  rate;  by  that  time  we  will  be  far  away,  and  it 
will  be  too  late." 

"But  if  they  should  tell  what  they  have  seen?" 

"What  can  they  tell?  Only  that  two  Frenchmen 
fell  upon  them.  No,  let  them  be.  Set  the  food  on 
the  floor  here.  If  they  get  hungry  they  can  roll  over 
toward  it  and  eat  it." 

The  gags  had  been  taken  out  of  the  mouths  of  the 
men.  If  they  did  give  the  alarm  there  would  be 
none  to  hear  them,  save  perhaps  a  French  peasant 
passing  that  way,  and  at  his  hands  they  would  meet 
short  shrift. 

Having  stuffed  their  haversacks  full  of  roast  pig, 
they  retraced  their  steps  and  reached  the  edge 
of  the  clearing.  It  was  noon  by  this  time,  so  much 
of  the  day  had  been  spent  in  the  various  undertak 
ings  that  have  been  described,  but  the  Russians  were 
still  there.  Evidently  they  intended  to  encamp  for 
the  day  and  rest.  Probably  it  was  part  of  the  pro 
gram.  These  would  move  on,  presumably  on  the 
morrow,  and  another  division  of  the  army  would 
come  up  and  take  their  places.  The  firing  still  con 
tinued  on  the  horizon. 

Marteau,  who  had  a  soldierly  instinct,  divined 
that  the  cavalry,  which  had  long  since  disappeared 
to  the  westward,  would  try  to  outflank  Macdonald, 
perhaps  get  in  his  rear,  and  this  Russian  division 
would  move  up  and  join  Yorck's  attacking  force. 
The  whole  proceeding  was  leisurely.  There  was  no 
especial  hurry.  There  was  no  use  tiring  out  the  men 
and  fighting  desperate  battles  when  maneuvering 
would  serve. 


70    THE  EAGLE  OF  THE  EMPIRE 

The  two  made  a  more  careful  investigation  and 
discovered  that  trees  led  across  the  road  about  half  a 
mile  to  the  left,  and,  although  the  roads  were  filled 
with  galloping  couriers  and  many  straggling  men 
and  small  commands,  yet  they  decided  that  by  going 
to  the  edge  of  the  wood  that  touched  the  road  and 
watching  their  opportunity  they  could  get  across  un 
noticed. 

While  they  stared  deliberating  a  squadron  of  cav 
alry,  not  of  Cossacks,  but  of  Russian  cuirassiers  left 
the  camp  and  moved  off  down  the  cross-road  that 
led  to  the  south  and  west — the  road,  indeed,  that  led 
to  the  Chateau  d'Aumenier.  The  officer  in  com 
mand  rode  in  front  and  with  him  were  several  civil 
ians,  at  least,  while  they  were  covered  with  heavy 
fur  cloaks,  no  uniform  was  visible,  and  among  the 
civilians  was  one  unmistakably  a  woman.  A 
Frenchman  always  had  an  eye  for  a  woman.  The 
party  was  too  far  away  to  distinguish  features,  but 
the  two  men  noted  the  air  of  distinction  about  the 
party  and  the  way  the  woman  rode  her  horse,  the 
deference  that  appeared  to  be  paid  to  her,  and  they 
wasted  no  little  time  in  wondering  what  might  be 
toward.  However,  no  explanation  presenting  itself 
to  their  minds,  and,  the  matter  being  of  no  great 
importance  after  all,  they  turned  their  attention  to 
the  business  in  hand. 

Working  their  way  through  the  trees  they  reached 
a  little  coppice  close  to  the  road.  They  lay  down 
on  the  ground  back  of  the  coppice,  wormed  their 
way  into  it,  and  waited. 

"Here  we  part,"  said  Marteau.    "There  are  but 


THE  EMPEROR  AT  BAY          71 

two  of  us.  We  must  get  all  the  information  we 
can.  I  will  find  out  what  division  this  is  in  front 
of  us,  and  I  will  go  back  along  the  road  to  the  east 
ward  and  ascertain  where  the  other  divisions  are, 
and  by  nightfall  I  will  return  to  Sezanne  to  report  to 
the  Emperor." 

"And  what  am  I  to  do?"  asked  the  grenadier. 
"Remain  here?" 

"You  will  cross  the  road  and  proceed  in  the  direc 
tion  of  the  firing.  Find  out,  if  you  can,  how  the 
battle  goes,  what  troops  are  there,  what  Marshal 
Macdonald  is  doing,  and  at  nightfall  retrace  your 
steps  and  hasten  back  to  Sezanne." 

"Where  shall  I  meet  you?" 

"Let  me  think,"  answered  Marteau.  "I  shall  first 
go  east  and  then  west,  if  I  can  get  around  that  divi 
sion  ahead  yonder.  Let  us  take  the  road  to  d'Aume- 
nier.  I  will  meet  you  at  the  old  chateau  at  ten 
o'clock,  or  not  later  than  midnight.  There  is  a  by 
road  over  the  marsh  and  through  the  forest  by  the 
bank  of  the  river  to  Sezanne." 

"I  know  it." 

"Very  well,  then.    It  is  understood?" 

Old  Bullet-Stopper  nodded. 

"The  road  is  clear,"  he  said.    "Good  luck." 

The  two  men  rose  to  their  feet,  shook  hands. 

"We  had  better  go  separately,"  said  Marteau. 
"You  have  the  longer  distance.  You  first.  I  will 
follow." 

The  officer  watched  the  old  grenadier  anxiously. 
He  passed  the  road  safely,  ran  across  the  interven 
ing  space,  and  disappeared  in  a  little  clump  of  fruit 


72    THE  EAGLE  OF  THE  EMPIRE 

trees  surrounding  a  deserted  farmhouse.  The  young 
man  waited,  listening  intently  for  the  sound  of  a 
shot  or  struggle,  but  he  heard  nothing.  Then  he 
turned,  stepped  out  into  the  road,  saw  it  was  empty 
for  the  moment,  set  his  face  eastward,  and  moved 
across  it  to  see  what  he  could  find  out  beyond. 


CHAPTER  V 

WHEN   THE   COSSACKS   PASSED 

FOR  the  first  time  in  years  the  great  hall  of  the 
Chateau  d'Aumenier  was  brightly  lighted.  The 
ancient  house  stood  in  the  midst  of  a  wooded  park 
adjacent  to  the  village,  overlooking  one  of  the  little 
lakes  whose  outlets  flowed  into  the  Morin.  In  for 
mer  days  it  had  been  the  scene  of  much  hospitality, 
and,  even  after  the  revolution  in  the  period  of  the 
consulate  and  the  early  empire,  representatives  of 
the  ancient  house  had  resided  there,  albeit  quietly 
and  in  greatly  diminished  style.  The  old  Mar 
quis  Henri,  as  uncompromising  a  royalist  soldier  as 
ever  lived,  had  fled  to  England  and  had  remained 
there.  His  younger  brother,  Robert,  compromising 
his  dignity  and  his  principles  alike,  had  finally  made 
his  submission  to  Napoleon  and  received  back  the 
estates,  or  what  had  not  been  sequestrated.  But  he 
had  lived  there  quietly,  had  sought  no  preferment 
of  the  government — even  rejecting  many  offers — 
and  had  confined  his  recognition  to  as  narrow  limits 
as  possible.  He  had  married  and  there  had  been 
born  to  him  a  daughter,  whom  he  had  named  after 
the  ancient  dames  of  his  honorable  house,  Laure. 

The  Count  d'Aumenier,  living  thus  retired,  had 
fallen  into  rather  careless  habits  after  the  death 

73 


74    THE  EAGLE  OF  THE  EMPIRE 

of  his  wife,  and  the  little  demoiselle  had  been 
brought  up  indifferently  indeed.  Dark,  brown-eyed, 
black-haired,  she  had  given  promise  of  beauty  to 
come.  Left  to  her  own  devices  she  had  acquired 
accomplishments  most  unusual  in  that  day  and  by 
no  means  feminine.  She  could  ride,  shoot,  swim, 
run,  fence,  much  better  than  she  could  dance  the  old 
courtly  minuet,  or  the  new  and  popular  waltz,  just 
beginning  to  make  its  appearance.  A  love  of  read 
ing  and  an  ancient  library  in  which  she  had  a  free 
range  had  initiated  her  into  many  things  which  the 
well-brought-up  French  girl  was  not  supposed  to 
know,  and  which,  indeed,  many  of  them  went  to 
their  graves  without  ever  finding  out.  The  Count 
had  a  well-stored  mind,  and  on  occasion  he  gave  the 
child  the  benefit  of  it,  while  leaving  her  mainly  to 
her  own  devices. 

Few  of  the  ancient  nobility  had  come  back  to  the 
neighborhood.  Their  original  holdings  had  been 
portioned  out  among  the  new  creations  of  the  Im 
perial  Wizard,  and  with  them  the  Count  held  little 
intercourse.  Laure  d'Aumenier  had  not  reached  the 
marriageable  age,  else  some  of  the  newly  made  gen 
try  would  undoubtedly  have  paid  court  to  her.  She 
found  companions  among  the  retainers  of  her 
father's  estate.  The  devotion  of  some  of  them  had 
survived  the  passionate  hatreds  of  the  revolution 
and,  failing  the  Marquis,  who  was  the  head  of  the 
house,  they  loyally  served  his  brother,  and  with 
pride  and  admiration  gave  something  like  feudal 
worship  and  devotion  to  the  little  lady. 

The  Marquis,  an  old  man  now,  had  never  forgiven 


THE  EMPEROR  AT  BAY          75 

his  brother,  the  Count,  for  his  compromise  with 
principle  and  for  his  recognition  of  the  "usurper," 
as  he  was  pleased  to  characterize  Napoleon.  He  had 
refused  even  to  accept  that  portion  of  the  greatly 
diminished  revenue  of  the  estate  which  the  younger 
brother  had  regularly  remitted  to  the  Marquis' 
bankers  in  London.  The  whole  amount  lay  there 
untouched  and  accumulating,  although,  as  were 
many  other  emigres,  the  Marquis  frequently  was 
hard  pressed  for  the  bare  necessities  of  life.  With 
every  year,  as  Bonaparte — for  that  was  the  only 
name  by  which  he  thought  of  him — seemed  to  be 
more  and  more  thoroughly  established  on  the  throne, 
the  resentment  of  the  Marquis  had  grown.  Latterly 
he  had  refused  to  hold  any  communication  with  his 
brother. 

The  year  before  the  Battle  of  the  Nations, 
or  just  before  Napoleon  set  forth  on  his  ill-fated 
Russian  adventure,  Count  Robert  d'Aumenier  died. 
With  an  idea  of  amendment,  which  showed  how  his 
conscience  had  smitten  him  for  his  compromise,  he 
left  everything  he  possessed  to  his  brother,  the  Mar 
quis,  including  his  daughter,  Laure,  who  had  just 
reached  her  sixteenth  year.  With  the  will  was  a 
letter,  begging  the  Marquis  to  take  the  young 
demoiselle  under  his  charge,  to  complete  that  ill- 
begun  and  worse-conducted  education,  the  deficien 
cies  of  which  the  father  too  late  realized,  in  a  man 
ner  befitting  her  station,  and  to  provide  for  her  mar 
riage  with  a  proper  portion,  as  if  she  had  been  his 
own  daughter.  The  Marquis  had  never  married 


76    THE  EAGLE  OF  THE  EMPIRE 

himself,  lacking  the  means  to  support  his  rank,  and 
it  was  probable  that  he  never  would  marry. 

The  Marquis  was  at  first  minded  to  refuse  the 
bequest  and  to  disregard  the  appeal,  but  an  old 
retainer  of  the  family,  none  other  than  Jean  Mar- 
teau,  the  elder,  complying  with  Count  Robert's  dy 
ing  wish,  had  taken  the  young  Countess  Laure 
across  the  channel,  and  had  quietly  left  her  in  her 
uncle's  care,  he  himself  coming  back  to  act  as  steward 
or  agent  for  the  remaining  acres  of  the  shrunken 
Aumenier  domain;  for  the  Marquis,  having  chosen 
a  course  and  walked  in  it  for  so  many  years,  was 
not  minded  even  for  the  sake  of  being  once  more 
the  lord  of  Aumenier  to  go  back  to  France,  since  the 
return  involved  the  recognition  of  the  powers  that 
were. 

Old  Jean  Marteau  lived  in  his  modest  house  be 
tween  the  village  and  the  chateau.  And  the  chateau 
had  been  closed  for  the  intervening  time.  Young 
Jean  Marteau,  plodding  along  the  familiar  way,  af 
ter  a  day  full  of  striking  adventure  and  fraught  with 
important  news,  instantly  noticed  the  light  coming 
through  the  half  moons  in  the  shutters  over  the  win 
dows  of  the  chateau,  as  he  came  around  a  brow  of 
the  hill  and  overlooked  the  village,  the  lake  and  the 
castle  in  the  clearing.  The  village  was  as  dark  as  the 
chateau  was  light. 

Marteau  was  ineffably  weary.  He  had  been  with 
out  sleep  for  thirty-six  hours,  he  had  ridden  twenty 
leagues  and  walked — Heaven  only  knew  how  many 
miles  in  addition.  He  had  extricated  himself  from 
desperate  situations  only  by  his  courage,  daring, 


THE  EMPEROR  AT  BAY          77 

and,  in  one  or  two  cases,  by  downright  fighting, 
rendered  necessary  by  his  determination  to  acquire 
accurate  information  for  the  Emperor.  He  had 
profited,  not  only  by  his  instruction  in  the  military 
school,  but  by  his  campaigning,  and  he  now  carried 
in  his  mind  a  disposition  of  the  Russian  forces  which 
would  be  of  the  utmost  value  to  the  Emperor. 

The  need  of  some  rest,  however,  was  absolute. 
Marmont's  troops,  starting  out  at  the  same  time  he 
had  taken  his  departure,  would  barely  have  reached 
Sezanne  by  this  time,  so  much  more  slowly  did  an 
army  move  than  a  single  person.  The  Emperor, 
who  had  intimated  that  he  would  remain  at  Nogent 
until  the  next  day,  would  scarcely  undertake  the 
march  before  morning.  Aumenier  lay  off  to  the 
northwest  of  Sezanne,  distant  a  few  miles.  If  the 
young  aide  could  find  something  to  eat  and  get  a 
few  hours'  sleep,  he  could  be  at  Sezanne  before  the 
Emperor  arrived  and  his  information  would  be  ready 
in  the  very  nick  of  time.  With  that  thought,  after 
staring  hard  at  the  chateau  in  some  little  wonder 
ment,  he  turned  aside  from  the  road  that  led  to  its 
entrance  and  made  for  the  village. 

His  mother  had  died  the  year  before;  his  father 
and  his  sister,  with  one  or  two  attendants,  lived 
alone.  There  was  no  noble  blood  in  Marteau's  veins, 
as  noble  blood  is  counted,  but  his  family  had  been 
followers  and  dependents  of  the  Aumeniers  for  as 
many  generations  as  that  family  had  been  domiciled 
in  France.  Young  Jean  Marteau  had  not  only  been 
Laure  d'Aumenier's  playmate,  but  he  had  been  her 
devoted  slave  as  well.  To  what  extent  that  devo- 


78    THE  EAGLE  OF  THE  EMPIRE 

tion  had  possessed  him  he  had  not  known  until  re 
turning  from  the  military  school  he  had  found  her 
gone. 

The  intercourse  between  the  young  people  had 
been  of  the  frankest  and  pleasantest  character,  but, 
in  spite  of  the  sturdy  respectability  of  the  family  and 
the  new  principles  of  equality  born  of  the  revolution, 
young  Marteau  realized — and  if  he  had  failed  to  do 
so  his  father  had  enlightened  him — that  there  was 
no  more  chance  of  his  becoming  a  suitor,  a  welcome 
suitor,  that  is,  for  the  hand  of  Laure  d'Aumenier 
than  there  was  of  his  becoming  a  Marshal  of  France. 

Indeed,  as  in  the  case  of  many  another  soldier, 
that  last  was  not  an  impossibility.  Men  infinitely 
more  humble  than  he  in  origin  and  with  less  natural 
ability  and  greatly  inferior  education  had  attained 
that  high  degree.  If  Napoleon  lived  long  enough 
and  the  wars  continued  and  he  had  the  opportunity, 
he,  too,  might  achieve  that  coveted  distinction.  But 
not  even  that  would  make  him  acceptable  to  Count 
Robert,  no  matter  what  his  career  had  been;  and 
even  if  Count  Robert  could  have  been  persuaded  the 
old  Marquis  Henri  would  be  doubly  impossible. 

So,  on  the  whole,  Jean  Marteau  had  been  glad 
that  Laure  d'Aumenier  had  gone  out  of  his  life.  He 
resolved  to  put  her  out  of  his  heart  in  the  same 
way,  and  he  plunged  with  splendid  energy  into  the 
German  campaign  of  1813,  with  its  singular  alter 
nations  of  success  and  failure,  of  victory  and  defeat, 
of  glory  and  shame.  He  had  been  lucky  enough  to 
win  his  captain's  commission,  and  now,  as  a  major, 
with  a  position  on  the  staff  of  the  Emperor,  he  could 


THE  EMPEROR  AT  BAY          79 

look  forward  to  rapid  advancement  so  long  as  the 
Emperor  lasted.  With  the  bright  optimism  of  youth, 
even  though  affairs  were  now  so  utterly  hopeless  that 
the  wise  old  marshals  despaired,  Marteau  felt  that 
his  foot  was  on  the  first  rung  of  the  ladder  of 
fame  and  prosperity,  and,  in  spite  of  himself,  as  he 
had  approached  his  native  village,  he  had  begun  to 
dream  again,  almost  to  hope. 

There  was  something  ominous,  however,  in  the 
appearance  of  the  village  in  that  dark  gray  evening 
hour.  There  were  no  barking  dogs,  no  clucking  hens, 
no  lowing  cattle,  no  sounds  of  childish  laughter,  no 
sturdy-voiced  men  or  softer-spoken  women  exchang 
ing  greetings.  The  stables  and  sheds  were  strangely 
silent. 

The  village  was  a  small  one.  He  turned  into 
it,  entered  the  first  house,  stumbled  over  a  corpse! 
The  silence  was  of  death.  With  a  beating  heart  and 
with  a  strength  he  did  not  know  he  possessed,  he 
turned  aside  and  ran  straight  to  his  father's  house. 

Standing  by  itself  it  was  a  larger,  better  and  more 
inviting  house  than  the  others.  The  gate  of  the 
surrounding  stone  wall  was  battered  off  the  hinges, 
the  front  door  of  the  house  was  open,  the  garden 
was  trampled.  The  house  had  been  half  destroyed. 
A  dead  dog  lay  in  front  of  the  door.  He  could  see 
all  that  in  the  half  light.  He  ran  down  the  path  and 
burst  into  the  wrecked  and  plundered  living  room. 
A  few  feeble  embers  still  glowed  in  the  broad  hearth. 
From  them  he  lighted  a  candle  standing  on  the  man 
tel  shelf. 

The  first  sight  that  greeted  him  was  the  body  of 


80    THE  EAGLE  OF  THE  EMPIRE 

his  sister,  her  torn  clothing  in  frightful  disarray,  a 
look  of  agony  and  horror  upon  her  white  set  face 
under  its  dishevelled  hair.  She  was  stone  dead.  He 
knelt  down  and  touched  her.  She  was  stone  cold, 
too.  He  stared  at  her,  a  groan  bursting  from  his 
lips.  The  groan  brought  forth  another  sound.  Was 
it  an  echo?  Lifting  the  candle,  he  looked  about  him. 
In  a  far  corner  lay  a  huddled  human  body.  He  ran 
to  it  and  bent  over  it.  It  was  his  father.  Knowing 
the  house  like  a  book,  he  ran  and  fetched  some  water. 
There  were  a  few  mouthfuls  of  spirits  left  in  a  flask 
of  vodka  he  had  found  in  the  Russian's  overcoat. 
He  bathed  his  father's  face,  forced  a  few  drops  of  the 
strong  spirit  down  his  throat,  and  the  old  man 
opened  his  eyes.  In  the  flickering  light  he  caught 
sight  of  the  green  cap  and  coat. 

"Curse  you,"  he  whispered. 

"My  father!"  cried  the  young  officer.    "It  is  I." 

"My  son!" 

"What  has  happened?" 

"The  Cossacks — I  fought  for  the  honor  of  your 
sister.  Where "  the  old  man's  voice  faltered. 

"She  is  dead  yonder,"  answered  the  son. 

"Thank  God,"  came  the  faint  whisper  from  the 
father.  "Mademoiselle  Laure — she — the  wagon- 
train — the  castle " 

His  voice  died  away,  his  eyes  closed.  Frantically 
the  young  man  recalled  his  father  to  his  senses  again. 

"It's  no  use,"  whispered  the  old  man,  "a  ball  in 
the  breast.  I  am  going.  What  do  you  here?" 

"On  the  service  of  the  Emperor,"  answered  the 
young  officer.  "Father,  speak  to  me!" 


THE  EMPEROR  AT  BAY          81 

"Alas — poor — France,"  came  the  words  slowly, 
one  by  one,  and  then — silence. 

Marteau  had  seen  death  too  many  times  not  to 
know  it  now.  He  laid  the  old  man's  head  gently 
down,  he  straightened  his  limbs,  he  went  over  to  the 
form  of  the  poor  girl.  To  what  horrors  she  had  been 
subjected — like  every  other  woman  in  the  village — • 
before  she  died!  Like  his  father,  he  thanked  God 
that  she  was  dead.  He  lifted  her  up  tenderly  and 
laid  her  down  on  a  huge  settle  by  the  fireplace.  He 
stood  a  moment,  looking  from  one  to  the  other.  The 
irreligion  of  the  age  had  not  seized  him.  He  knelt 
down  and  made  a  prayer.  Having  discharged  that 
duty,  he  lifted  his  hands  to  heaven  and  his  lips 
moved.  Was  he  invoking  a  curse  upon  these  ene 
mies?  He  turned  quickly  and  went  out  into  the 
night,  drawing  the  door  behind  him,  fastening  it  as 
tight  as  he  could. 

He  forgot  that  he  was  hungry,  that  he  was  thirsty, 
that  he  was  tired,  that  he  was  cold.  For  the  moment 
he  almost  forgot  his  duty  toward  his  Emperor  and 
France,  as  he  walked  rapidly  through  the  trees 
toward  the  great  house.  But  as  he  walked  that 
stern  obligation  came  back  to  him.  His  sister  was 
dead,  his  father  murdered.  Well,  the  first  Cossack 
he  came  upon  should  pay.  Meanwhile  there  was  his 
duty.  What  had  his  father  said? 

"The  Cossacks — the  wagon-train — the  Countess 
Laure." 

What  did  it  mean?  Part  of  it  was  plain  enough. 
The  Cossacks  had  raided  the  village,  his  father  had 
been  stricken  down  defending  his  daughter,  his  sis- 


82    THE  EAGLE  OF  THE  EMPIRE 

ter  had  died.  That  was  easy,  but  the  wagon-train, 
the  castle,  the  Countess  Laure?  Could  she  have 
come  back?  Was  that  the  occasion  for  the  lights  in 
the  chateau?  That  body  of  cavalry  that  he  had  seen 
leaving  Sacken's  men  that  morning  with  the  civilians 
— was  she  that  woman?  The  mystery  would  be 
solved  at  the  chateau.  And  it  was  there  he  had 
arranged  to  meet  his  comrade,  anyway. 

He  stopped  and  looked  back  at  the  devastated 
village.  Already  a  light  was  blazing  in  one  of  the 
houses.  It  would  soon  be  afire.  He  could  do 
nothing  then.  The  chateau  called  him.  He  broke 
into  a  run  again,  heavy-footed  and  tired  out  though 
he  was.  Around  the  chateau  in  the  courtyard 
were  dozens  of  wagons.  His  experienced  glance 
told  him  that  they  were  army  wagons,  containing 
provisions,  arms,  ammunition.  Some  of  the  covers 
had  been  raised  to  expose  the  contents.  There 
was  not  a  living  man  present,  and  scarcely  a  liv 
ing  horse.  There  had  been  some  sort  of  a  battle 
evidently,  for  the  wagons  were  in  all  sorts  of  con 
fusion  and  there  were  dead  men  and  horses  every 
where.  He  did  not  stop  to  examine  them  save  to 
make  sure  that  the  dead  men  were  French,  proving 
that  the  convoy  had  come  from  Paris.  He  threaded 
his  way  among  the  wagons  and  finally  reached  the 
steps  that  led  to  the  broad  terrace  upon  which  rose 
the  chateau. 

The  main  door  was  open.  There  were  no  soldiers 
about,  which  struck  him  as  peculiar,  almost  terrify 
ing.  He  went  up  the  steps  and  across  the  terrace, 
and  stopped  before  the  building,  almost  stumbling 


THE  EMPEROR  AT  BAY          83 

over  the  bodies  of  two  men  whose  uniforms  were 
plainly  Russian!  He  inspected  them  briefly  and 
stepped  toward  the  door  of  the  entrance  hall.  It 
was  open  but  dimly  lighted,  and  the  light  wavered 
fitfully.  The  faint  illumination  came  into  the  hall 
from  a  big  broad  open  door  upon  the  right,  giving 
entrance  to  what  had  been  the  great  room.  Still 
keeping  within  the  shadow,  he  moved  carefully  and 
noiselessly  into  the  hall,  until  he  could  get  a  view  of 
the  room  beyond. 

A  huge  fire  was  burning  in  the  enormous  fireplace. 
The  many  tables  with  which  the  room  had  been 
furnished  had  been  pushed  together  in  the  center, 
several  tall  candles  pulled  from  the  candelabra  and 
fastened  there  by  their  own  melted  wax  stood  upon 
these  tables  and  added  their  illumination  to  the  fire 
light.  Several  men  in  uniforms,  two  of  them  rough- 
coated  Cossacks,  and  two  whose  dress  showed  clearly 
that  they  belonged  to  the  Russian  Imperial  Guard, 
lay  on  the  floor,  bound  and  helpless.  A  stout,  elderly 
man,  in  civilian  garb,  with  a  very  red  face  and  an 
angry  look,  his  wig  awry,  was  lashed  to  a  chair.  Be 
tween  two  ruffianly  looking  men,  who  held  her 
firmly,  stood  a  woman. 

There  were  perhaps  two  dozen  other  men  in  the 
room,  unkempt,  savage,  brutal,  armed  with  all  sorts 
of  nondescript  weapons  from  ancient  pistols  to  fowl 
ing  pieces,  clubs  and  scythes.  They  were  all  in  a 
state  of  great  excitement,  shouting  and  gesturing 
madly. 

The  woman  standing  between  the  two  soldiers  was 
in  the  full  light.  So  soon  as  he  caught  sight  of  her 


84    THE  EAGLE  OF  THE  EMPIRE 

Marteau  recognized  her.  It  was  Laure  d'Aumenier. 
She  had  grown  taller  and  more  beautiful  than  when 
he  had  seen  her  last  as  a  young  girl.  She  had  been 
handled  roughly,  her  clothes  were  torn,  her  hair  par 
tially  unbound.  Her  captors  held  her  with  an  iron 
grasp  upon  her  arms,  but  she  did  not  flinch  or  mur 
mur.  She  held  herself  as  erect  and  looked  as  im 
perious  as  if  she  had  been  on  a  throne. 


CHAPTER  VI 

MARTEAU  BARGAINS  FOR  THE  WOMAN 

THE  sight  of  her  predicament  filled  the  young 
Frenchman  with  rage  and  horror.  Drawing  his 
pistol,  he  strode  into  the  room.  What  he  intended 
to  do,  or  how  he  intended  to  do  it  was  not  clear  even 
to  him.  There  stood  the  woman  he  loved  in  the 
clutch  of  wretches  whose  very  touch  was  pollution. 
He  must  help  her.  All  duties  and  intentions  gave 
way  to  that  determination. 

A  dead  silence  fell  over  the  room  as  he  entered 
and  the  people  caught  sight  of  him.  He  stood 
staring  at  the  occupants  and  they  returned  his  stare 
in  good  measure.  Finally  the  biggest  ruffian,  who 
seemed  to  be  the  leader,  found  his  voice  and  burst 
out  with  a  savage  oath : 

"Another  Russian!    Well,  the  more  the  merrier." 

He  raised  a  huge  horse  pistol  as  he  spoke.  His 
words  were  greeted  with  jeers  and  yells  from  the 
band.  With  a  flash  of  inspiration  Marteau,  realizing 
into  what  he  had  been  led,  dropped  his  own  weapon 
and  instantly  threw  up  his  hands. 

"I  am  French,  messieurs,"  he  cried  loudly  as  the 
pistol  clattered  on  the  floor  at  his  feet. 

"What  are  you  doing  in  that  uniform,  then?" 
roared  the  leader. 

85 


86    THE  EAGLE  OF  THE  EMPIRE 

Marteau  tore  open  the  heavy  green  coat,  disclos 
ing  beneath  it  his  French  uniform.  He  had  a  sec 
ond  to  make  up  his  mind  how  to  answer  that  per 
tinent  question.  He  was  quite  in  the  dark  as  to  the 
meaning  of  the  mysterious  situation.  He  opened  his 
mouth  and  spoke. 

"It  is  quite  simple,"  he  began,  "I  am " 

What  should  he  say?  What  was  he?  Were  these 
men  for  the  Emperor  or  for  the  king,  or  were  they 
common  blackguards  for  themselves?  The  latter 
was  probably  the  true  state  of  the  case,  but  did  it 
please  them  to  pose  as  royalists?  He  took  a  long 
chance  after  a  quick  prayer  because  he  wanted  to 
live  not  so  much  for  himself  as  for  the  woman. 

"I  am  deserting  the  Emperor,"  he  said.  "I  am  for 
the  king." 

"No  king  could  have  brought  us  to  worse  straits 
than  we  are  now  in,"  said  the  leader,  lowering  his 
pistol  uncertainly,  but  still  keeping  the  young  man 
covered. 

"Right,  my  friend,"  continued  Marteau  exultant 
ly,  realizing  that  he  had  made  the  right  choice. 
"Bonaparte  is  beaten,  Bliicher  is  marching  on  Paris, 
Schwarzenberg  has  the  Emperor  surrounded.  I 
thought  I  might  as  well  save  myself  while  I  had 
the  chance,  so  I  stole  this  Russian  coat  to  keep  my 
self  from  freezing  to  death,  and  here  I  am.  I  belong 
to  Aumenier." 

"You'll  join  us,  then?" 

"With  pleasure.    Who  do  you  serve?" 

"Ourselves,"  laughed  the  leader  grimly.  "We're 
from  Fere-Champenoise  way.  We're  all  of  the  vil- 


THE  EMPEROR  AT  BAY          87 

lage  and  countryside  that  the  Cossacks  and  the 
Prussians  have  left  of  our  families.  We're  hungry, 
starving,  naked.  Do  you  hear?  We  were  hiding 
in  the  woods  hard  by  to-day.  There  was  a  wagon- 
train.  A  regiment  of  Cossacks  surprised  it,  killed  its 
defenders,  brought  it  here.  We  saw  it  all." 

"And  where  are  the  Cossacks  gone?"  asked  the 
young  man,  coolly  picking  up  his  pistol  from  the 
floor  and  nonchalantly  sitting  upon  the  nearest  table 
in  a  careless  way  which  certainly  belied  the  beating 
of  his  heart.  He  took  careful  notice  of  the  men. 
They  were  ignorant  fellows  of  the  baser  sort,  half- 
mad,  starving,  ferocious  peasants,  little  better  than 
brute  beasts,  made  so  by  the  war. 

"An  order  came  for  them.  They  marched  away, 
leaving  a  company  of  other  soldiers  like  those  yon 
der."  He  pointed  to  the  men  on  the  floor. 

"And  what  became  of  them?" 

"There  was  an  attack  from  the  woods  at  night 
— a  little  handful  of  French  soldiers.  They  beat 
them  off  and  followed  them  down  the  road.  They 
have  been  gone  half  an  hour.  We  heard  the  firing. 
We  came  out  thinking  to  plunder  the  train.  We 
opened  wagon  after  wagon  but  found  nothing  but 
arms.  We  can't  eat  steel  or  powder.  We  killed 
two  sentries,  made  prisoners  of  the  officers.  We'll 
set  fire  to  the  house  and  leave  them  presently.  As 
for  this  man,  we'll  kill  him,  and  as  for  this 
woman " 

He  laughed  meaningly,  basely,  leering  at  the  girl 
in  hideous  suggestiveness  that  made  her  shudder; 


88    THE  EAGLE  OF  THE  EMPIRE 

and  which  his  wretched  companions  found  highly 
amusing. 

"You  have  done  well,"  said  the  young  officer 
quickly,  although  he  was  cold  with  rage  at  the  ruf 
fian's  low  insinuation.  "I  hope  to  have  some  in 
terest  with  the  king  later.  If  you  will  give  me 
your  names  I  will  see  that  you  are  rewarded." 

"Never  mind  our  names,"  growled  the  leader,  still 
suspicious,  evidently. 

"Food  and  drink  would  reward  us  better  now," 
shouted  a  second. 

"Aye,"  yelled  one  of  the  others,  seconding  this 
happy  thought.  "We  have  eaten  nothing  since 
yesterday,  and  as  for  drink,  it  is  a  week  since  my 
lips  have  tasted  a  swallow  of  wine." 

"And  what  would  you  give  me  if  I  could  procur" 
you  some  of  the  fine  wine  of  the  country,  my 
friends?"  said  Marteau  quietly,  putting  great  re 
straint  upon  himself  to  continue  trafficking  with 
these  scoundrels. 

"Give?  Anything,"  answered  several  in  chorus, 
their  red  eyes  gleaming. 

"If  you've  got  it  we'll  take  it  for  nothing,"  said 
the  brutal  leader  with  ferocious  cunning. 

"Do  I  look  as  if  I  concealed  wine  and  provisions 
on  my  person?"  asked  the  officer  boldly,  confident 
now  that  he  had  found  the  way  to  master  these 
men. 

"No,"  was  the  answer.    "But  where  is  it?" 

"And  be  quick,  about  it,"  cried  a  second  threat 
eningly.  "Those  Russians  may  be  back  at  any 
moment." 


THE  EMPEROR  AT  BAY          89 

"Is  this  a  jest?"  asked  a  third  with  a  menacing 
gesture. 

"It  would  be  ill-done  to  joke  with  men  as  hun 
gry  as  you  are,  I  take  it,"  answered  Marteau. 

"Hurry,  then,"  cried  a  fourth. 

"In  good  time,  my  friends.  First,  a  word  with 
you.  What  are  you  going  to  do  with  those  two 
prisoners?" 

"Knock  the  men  in  the  head,  I  told  you,"  an 
swered  the  leader. 

"And  the  woman?" 

"We  are  trying  to  settle  who  should  have  her 
—first." 

"It's  a  pity  there's  only  one,  still "  began  an 
other. 

"I'll  make  a  bargain  with  you,  then,"  interrupted 
Marteau  quickly,  fingering  his  weapon  while  he 
spoke.  "Food  and  drink  in  plenty  for  you,  the 
woman  for  me." 

"And  what  do  you  want  of  the  woman?" 

"Before  I  was  a  soldier  I  lived  in  Aumenier,  I  told 
you.  I  served  these  people.  This  woman  is  an  aris 
tocrat.  I  hate  her." 

It  was  an  old  appeal  and  an  old  comment  but  it 
served.  These  were  wild  days  like  those  of  the 
revolution,  the  license  and  rapine  and  ravagings  of 
which  some  of  the  older  men  present  could  very  well 
recall. 

"She  treated  me  like  dirt  under  her  feet,"  went 
on  the  officer.  "Now  I  want  to  have  my  turn." 

"Marteau!"  cried  the  woman  for  the  first  time, 
recognizing  him  as  he  turned  a  grim  face  toward 


her,  upon  which  he  had  very  successfully  counter 
feited  a  look  of  hatred.  "Is  it  indeed " 

"Silence,"  thundered  the  young  soldier,  stepping 
near  to  her  and  shaking  his  clenched  fist  in  her 
face.  "These  worthy  patriots  will  give  you  to  me, 
and  then " 

There  was  a  burst  of  wild  laughter  throughout 
the  room. 

"It's  these  cursed  aristocrats  that  have  brought 
these  hateful  Russians  upon  us,"  cried  one. 

"Give  her  to  the  lad  and  let  us  have  food  and 
drink,"  cried  another. 

"He'll  deal  with  her,"  cried  a  third. 

"You  hear?"  asked  the  chief. 

"I  hear,"  answered  Marteau.  "Listen.  My  father 
kept  this  house  for  its  owners.  He  is  dead  in  the 
village  yonder." 

"The  wine,  the  wine,"  roared  one,  licking  his  lips. 

"Food.    I  starve,"  cried  another,  baring  his  teeth. 

"Wait.  Naturally,  fleeing  from  the  army,  I  came 
to  him.  My  sister  is  dead  too,  outraged,  murdered. 
You  know?" 

"Yes,  yes,  we  know." 

"I  want  to  get  my  revenge  on  someone  and  who 
better  than  she?" 

The  young  officer  did  not  dare  again  to  look  at 
the  young  woman.  He  could  feel  the  horror,  the 
amazement,  the  contempt  in  her  glance.  Was  this 
one  of  the  loyal  Marteaux? 

"Make  her  suffer  for  us!" 

"Our  children!" 

"Our  mothers!" 


THE  EMPEROR  AT  BAY         91 

"Our  daughters!"  cried  one  after  the  other,  in 
toxicated  with  their  wrongs,  real  or  fancied,  their 
faces  black  with  rage,  their  clenched  hands  raised 
to  heaven  as  if  invoking  vengeance. 

"Have  no  fear,"  said  Marteau.  "Because  of  my 
father's  position  I  know  where  the  wine  cellar  is, 
and  there  is  food  there." 

"Lead  on,"  said  the  chief.  "We've  talked  too 
much." 

"This  way,"  replied  the  young  captain,  lifting 
the  only  candlestick  from  the  table.  "Leave  two 
men  to  watch  the  woman  and  give  the  alarm,  the 
rest  follow  me." 

Marteau  knew  the  old  castle  like  a  book.  He 
knew  where  the  keys  were  kept.  Chatting  care 
lessly  and  giving  them  every  evidence  of  his  fa 
miliarity,  he  found  the  keys,  unlocked  the  doors, 
led  them  from  room  to  room,  from  level  to  level, 
until  finally  they  reached  the  wine  cellar.  It  was 
separated  from  the  cellar  in  which  they  stood  by  a 
heavy  iron-bound  oaken  door.  In  spite  of  his  easy 
bearing  and  manner,  suspicions  had  been  aroused  in 
the  uneasy  minds  of  the  rabble,  but  when  Marteau 
lifted  the  candle  and  bade  them  bring  their  own 
lights  and  see  through  an  iron  grating  in  the  door 
what  the  chamber  beyond  contained  and  they  recog 
nized  the  casks  and  bottles,  to  say  nothing  of  hams, 
smoked  meats  and  other  eatables,  their  suspicions 
vanished.  They  burst  into  uproarious  acclamation. 

"Hasten,"  cried  the  leader. 

"This  is  the  last  door." 


92    THE  EAGLE  OF  THE  EMPIRE 

"Have  you  the  key?" 

"It  is  here." 

Marteau  lifted  the  key,  thrust  it  in  the  lock  and 
turned  it  slowly,  as  if  by  a  great  effort  and,  the  door 
opening  outward,  he  drew  it  back. 

"Enter,"  he  said.    "Help  yourselves." 

With  cries  of  joy  like  famished  wolves  the  whole 
band  poured  into  the  wine  cellar.  All,  that  is,  but 
Marteau.  As  the  last  men  entered  he  flung  the  door 
to  and  with  astonishing  quickness  turned  the  key 
in  the  lock  and  turned  away.  The  door  had  shut 
with  a  mighty  crash,  the  noise  had  even  stopped  the 
rioting  plunderers.  The  first  man  who  had  seized 
a  bottle  dropped  it  crashing  to  the  floor.  All  eyes 
and  faces  turned  toward  the  door.  The  last  man 
threw  himself  against  it  frantically.  It  held  as 
firmly  as  if  it  had  been  the  rock  wall.  They  were 
trapped.  The  leader  was  quicker  than  the  rest. 
He  still  had  his  weapon.  Thrusting  it  through  the 
iron  bars  of  the  grating  in  the  door  he  pulled  the 
trigger.  There  was  a  mighty  roar,  a  cloud  of  smoke, 
but  fortunately  in  the  dim  light  his  aim  was  bad. 
Marteau  laughed  grimly. 

"Enjoy  yourselves,  messieurs.  The  provisions  are 
good  and  you  may  eat  as  much  as  you  like.  The 
wine  is  excellent.  Drink  your  fill!" 

The  next  instant  he  leaped  up  the  stairs  and  re 
traced  his  steps.  It  was  a  long  distance  from  the 
wine-cellar  to  the  great  room,  but  through  the 
grating  that  gave  entrance  to  the  courtyard  the 
sound  of  shots  had  penetrated.  One  of  the  ruf- 


THE  EMPEROR  AT  BAY          93 

fians,  committing  the  woman  to  the  care  of  the 
remaining  man,  started  to  follow  his  comrades.  He 
had  his  pistol  in  his  hand.  He  went  noisily,  mut 
tering  oaths,  feeling  that  something  was  wrong  but 
not  being  able  to  divine  exactly  what.  Marteau 
heard  him  coming.  He  put  the  candle  down,  con 
cealed  himself  and,  as  the  man  came,  struck  him 
heavily  over  the  head  with  the  butt  of  his  remain 
ing  pistol.  He  fell  like  a  log.  Leaving  the  candle 
where  it  was,  the  young  officer,  dispossessing  his 
victim  of  his  pistols,  entered  the  hall  and,  instead 
of  entering  the  great  room  by  the  door  by  which 
he  had  left  it,  ran  along  the  hall  to  the  main  en 
trance  and  thus  took  the  remaining  brigand  in  the 
rear. 

This  man  was  one  of  those  who  had  seized  the 
Countess  Laure.  In  spite  of  herself  the  girl  started 
as  the  officer  appeared  in  the  doorway.  The  man 
felt  her  start,  wheeled,  his  eyes  recognized  the  of 
ficer.  He  had  no  pistol,  but  his  fingers  went  to  his 
belt  and  with  the  quickness  of  light  itself  he  hurled 
a  knife  straight  at  Marteau.  The  woman  with 
equal  speed  caught  the  man's  arm  and  disturbed  his 
aim.  Her  movement  was  purely  instinctive.  Ac 
cording  to  his  own  words  she  had  even  more  to  fear 
from  Marteau  than  from  this  ruffian.  The  young 
officer  instantly  dropped  to  his  knees  and  as  he  did 
so  presented  his  pistol  and  fired.  The  knife  whistled 
harmlessly  over  his  head  and  buried  itself  in  the 
wood  paneling  of  the  door.  The  bullet  sped  straight 
to  its  mark.  The  unfortunate  blackguard  collapsed 


94    THE  EAGLE  OF  THE  EMPIRE 

on  the  floor  at  the  feet  of  the  girl,  who  screamed  and 
shrank  back  shuddering. 

"Now,  mademoiselle,"  said  the  young  man,  ad 
vancing  into  the  room,  "I  have  the  happiness  to  in 
form  you  that  you  are  free." 


CHAPTER  VII 

A  RESCUE  AND  A  SIEGE 

THE  woman  stared  at  him  in  wild  amazement. 
That  she  was  free  temporarily  at  least,  could  not  be 
gainsaid.  Her  captors  had  not  seen  fit  to  bind  her 
and  she  now  stood  absolutely  untouched  by  any 
one.  The  shooting,  the  fighting,  had  confused  her. 
She  had  only  seen  Marteau  as  an  accomplice  and 
friend  of  her  assailants,  she  had  no  clew  to  his  ap 
parent  change  of  heart.  She  did  not  know  whether 
she  had  merely  exchanged  masters  or  what  had 
happened.  Smiling  ironically  at  her  bewilderment, 
which  he  somehow  resented  in  his  heart,  Marteau 
proceeded  to  further  explanation. 

"You  are  free,  mademoiselle,"  he  repeated  em 
phatically,  bowing  before  her. 

"But  I  thought- 

"Did  you  think  that  I  could  be  allied  with  such 
cowardly  thieves  and  vagabonds  as  those?" 

"But  you  said— 

"It  was  simply  a  ruse.  Could  you  imagine  that 
one  of  my  family,  that  I,  should  fail  in  respect  and 
devotion  to  one  of  yours,  to  you?  I  determined  to 
free  you  the  instant  I  saw  you." 

"And  will  you  not  complete  your  good  work?" 
broke  out  the  man  tied  to  the  chair  in  harsh  and 

95 


96    THE  EAGLE  OF  THE  EMPIRE 

foreign  but  sufficiently  comprehensible  French,  "by 
straightway  releasing  me,  young  sir?" 

"But  who  is  this?" 

"This  is  Sir  Gervaise  Yeovil,"  answered  Mademoi 
selle  Laure,  "my  attorney,  an  English  officer-of-the- 
law,  of  Lord  Castlereagh's  suite,  who  came  with  me 
from  Chatillon  to  get  certain  papers  and— 

"Why  all  this  bother  and  explanation?"  burst  out 
Sir  Gervaise.  "Tell  him  to  cut  these  lashes  and 
release  me  from  this  cursed  bondage,"  he  added  in 
English. 

"That  is  quite  another  matter,  sir,"  said  Mar- 
teau  gravely.  "I  regret  that  you  are  an  enemy  and 
that  I  can  not " 

"But  we  are  not  enemies,  Monsieur,"  cried  one  of 
the  officers,  who  had  just  succeeded  in  working  a 
gag  out  of  his  mouth.  "We  are  Russian  officers  of 
the  Imperial  Guard  and  since  you  have  deserted  the 
cause  of  the  Corsican  you  will — 

"Deserted!"  thundered  Marteau,  his  pale  face 
flaming.  "That  was  as  much  a  ruse  as  the  other." 

"What,  then,  do  you  mean  by  wearing  a  Russian 
coat  over  your  uniform  and— 

"He  is  a  spy.  He  shall  be  hanged,"  said  the 
other,  also  freeing  himself  of  his  gag. 

"Indeed,"  laughed  Marteau.  "And  do  you  gen 
tlemen  ask  me  to  release  you  in  order  that  you  may 
hang  me?" 

"I  won't  hang  you,"  burst  out  the  Englishman. 
"On  the  contrary,  I'll  give  you  fifty  pounds  if  you'll 
cut  these  cords  and " 

Marteau  shook  his  head. 


THE  EMPEROR  AT  BAY         97 

"Countess,"  bellowed  Yeovil  angrily,  "there's  a 
knife  on  the  table  yonder,  pray  do  you " 

The  young  woman  made  a  swift  step  in  that  di 
rection,  but  the  Frenchman  was  too  quick  for  her. 

"Pardon  me,  mademoiselle,  I  beg  that  the  first 
use  you  make  of  your  new  life  be  not  to  aid  my 
enemies." 

"Your  enemies,  Marteau?" 

"The  enemies  of  France,  then." 

"Not  my  uncle's  France,"  said  the  girl. 

"But  your  father's,  and  I  had  hoped  yours." 

"No,  no." 

"In  any  event,  these  gentlemen  must  remain 
bound  for  the  time  being.  No  harm  shall  come  to  you 
from  me,"  continued  Marteau,  addressing  the  two 

officers.  "But  as  for  these  hounds "  He  stepped 

over  to  the  two  Cossacks,  who  lay  mute.  He  bent 
over  them  with  such  a  look  of  rage,  ruthless  deter 
mination  and  evil  purpose  in  his  face  as  startled  the 
woman  into  action. 

"Monsieur!"  she  cried,  stepping  over  to  him  and 
striving  to  interpose  between  him  and  the  two  men. 
"Marteau,  what  would  you  do?" 

"My  sister — dead  in  the  cottage  yonder  after — 

after "  he  choked  out.  He  stopped,  his  fingers 

twitching.  "My  old  father !  If  I  served  them  right 
I  would  pitch  them  into  yonder  fireplace  or  torture 
them,  the  dogs,  the  cowards!" 

"My  friend,"  said  the  young  Countess  gently, 
laying  her  hand  on  his  arm. 

Marteau  threw  up  his  hands,  that  touch  recalled 
him  to  his  senses. 


98    THE  EAGLE  OF  THE  EMPIRE 

"I  will  let  them  alone  for  the  present,"  he  said. 

"Meanwhile "  He  seized  the  dead  man  and 

dragged  the  body  out  of  sight  behind  the  tables. 

"Will  monsieur  give  a  thought  to  me?"  came  an 
other  voice  from  the  dim  recesses  of  a  far  corner. 

"And  who  are  you?"  asked  Marteau,  lifting  the 
light  and  staring. 

"A  Frenchman,  sir.  They  knocked  me  on  the 
head  and  left  me  for  dead,  but  if  monsieur  would 
assist  me  I " 

Marteau  stepped  over  to  him,  bent  down  and 
lifted  him  up.  He  was  a  stout,  hardy  looking  peas 
ant  boy,  pale  cheeked,  with  blood  clotted  around  his 
forehead  from  a  blow  that  he  had  received.  Fever 
ish  fire  sparkled  in  his  eyes. 

"If  monsieur  wishes  help  to  put  these  brutes  out 
of  the  way  command  me,"  he  said  passionately. 

"We  will  do  nothing  with  them  at  present,"  an 
swered  Marteau. 

"Quick,  Laure,  the  knife,"  whispered  the  English 
man. 

The  Frenchman  heard  him,  however,  and  wheeled 
around. 

"Mademoiselle,"  he  cried,  "on  your  honor  I  charge 
you  not  to  abuse  the  liberty  I  have  secured  for  you 
and  that  I  allow  you." 

"But,  my  friends " 

"If  you  had  depended  on  your  friends  you  would 

even  now  be "  he  paused — "as  my  sister,"  he 

added  with  terrific  intensity. 

"Your  pleasure  shall  be  mine,"  said  the  young 
woman. 


THE  EMPEROR  AT  BAY         99 

"If  I  could  have  a  drink  of  wine!"  said  the  young 
peasant,  sinking  down  into  a  chair. 

'There  is  a  flask  which  they  did  not  get  in  the 
pocket  of  one  of  the  officers  yonder,"  said  the  young 
Frenchwoman,  looking  sympathetically  at  the  poor 
exhausted  lad. 

Marteau  quickly  recovered  it,  in  spite  of  the  pro 
testations  of  the  officer,  who  looked  his  indignation 
at  this  little  betrayal  by  the  woman.  He  gave  some 
of  it  to  the  peasant  and  then  offered  it  to  mademoi 
selle  and,  upon  her  declining  it,  took  a  long  drink 
himself.  He  was  weak  and  trembling  with  all  he 
had  gone  through. 

"Now,  what's  to  be  our  further  course?"  asked 
the  countess. 

"I  don't  know  yet.    I " 

But  the  answer  was  never  finished.  Shots,  cries, 
the  sound  of  galloping  horses  came  faintly  through 
the  open  door. 

"My  men  returning!"  cried  the  Russian  officer  tri 
umphantly.  "Our  turn  will  come  now,  sir." 

Two  courses  were  open.  To  run  or  to  fight.  Duty 
said  go;  love  said  stay.  Duty  was  stronger.  After 
a  moment's  hesitation  Marteau  dashed  for  the  door. 
He  was  too  late.  The  returning  Russian  cavalry 
was  already  entering  the  courtyard.  Fate  had  de 
cided  against  him.  He  could  not  go  now.  He 
thought  with  the  swiftness  of  a  veteran.  He  sprang 
back  into  the  hall,  threw  the  great  iron-bound  door 
into  its  place,  turned  the  massive  key  in  its  lock, 
thanking  God  that  key  and  lock  were  still  intact, 
dropped  the  heavy  bars  at  top  and  bottom  that  fur- 


100  THE  EAGLE  OF  THE  EMPIRE 

ther  secured  it,  just  as  the  first  horseman  thundered 
upon  the  door. 

In  his  rapid  passage  through  the  house  the  young 
Frenchman  had  noticed  that  all  the  windows  were 
shuttered  and  barred,  that  only  the  front  door  ap 
peared  to  have  been  opened.  He  was  familiar  with 
the  chateau.  He  knew  how  carefully  its  openings 
had  been  secured  and  how  often  his  father  had 
inspected  them,  to  keep  out  brigands,  the  waifs 
and  strays,  the  wanderers,  the  low  men  of  the  coun 
tryside.  For  the  moment  he  was  safe  with  his 
prisoners,  one  man  and  a  boy  guarding  a  score  of 
men  and  one  woman,  and  holding  a  chateau  against 
a  hundred  and  fifty  soldiers!  Fortunately,  there 
would  be  no  cannon  with  that  troop  of  cavalry, 
there  were  no  cannon  in  that  wagon  train,  so  that 
they  could  not  batter  down  the  chateau  over  his 
head.  What  his  ultimate  fate  would  be  he  could 
not  tell.  Could  he  hold  that  castle  indefinitely?  If 
not,  what?  How  he  was  to  get  away  and  reach 
Napoleon  with  his  vital  news  he  could  not  see. 
There  must  be  some  way,  however.  Well,  what 
ever  was  to  be  would  be,  and  meanwhile  he  could 
only  wait  developments  and  hold  on. 

The  troopers  outside  were  very  much  astonished 
to  find  the  heavy  door  closed  and  the  two  sentries 
dead  on  the  terrace.  They  dismounted  from  their 
horses  at  the  foot  of  the  terrace  and  crowded  about 
the  door,  upon  which  they  beat  with  their  pistols, 
at  the  same  time  shouting  the  names  and  titles  of 
the  officers  within.  Inside  the  great  hall  Marteau 
had  once  more  taken  command.  In  all  this  excite- 


THE  EMPEROR  AT  BAY        101 

ment  Laure  d'Aumenier  had  stood  like  a  stone,  ap 
parently  indifferent  to  the  appeals  of  the  four  bound 
men  on  the  floor  and  the  Englishman  in  the  chair 
that  she  cut  the  ropes  with  which  they  were  bound, 
while  the  French  officer  was  busy  at  the  door.  Per 
haps  that  young  peasant  might  have  prevented  her, 
but  as  a  matter  of  fact,  she  made  no  attempt  to 
answer  their  pleas.  She  stood  waiting  and  watch 
ing.  Just  as  Marteau  reentered  the  room  the  chief 
Russian  officer  shouted  out  a  command.  From  where 
he  lay  on  the  floor  his  voice  did  not  carry  well  and 
there  was  too  much  tumult  outside  for  anyone  to 
hear.  In  a  second  Marteau  was  over  him. 

"If  you  open  your  mouth  again,  monsieur,"  he 
said  fiercely,  "I  shall  have  to  choose  between  gag 
ging  and  killing  you,  and  I  incline  to  the  latter.  And 
these  other  gentlemen  may  take  notice.  You,  what 
are  you  named?" 

"Pierre  Lebois,  sir,"  answered  the  peasant. 

"Can  you  fire  a  gun?" 

"Give  me  a  chance,"  answered  the  young  fellow. 
"I've  got  people  dead,  yonder,  to  avenge." 

The  brigands  had  left  the  swords  and  pistols  of 
the  officers  on  chairs,  tables  and  the  floor.  There 
were  eight  pistols.  Marteau  gathered  them  up. 
The  English  baronet  yielded  one  other,  a  huge, 
heavy,  old-fashioned  weapon. 

"There  are  loopholes  in  the  shutters  yonder,"  said 
the  officer.  "Do  you  take  that  one,  I  will  take  the 
other.  They  will  get  away  from  the  door  in  a  mo 
ment  and  as  soon  as  you  can  see  them  fire." 

"Mademoiselle,"   said   the   Russian   officer   des- 


102  THE  EAGLE  OF  THE  EMPIRE 

perately,  "I  shall  have  to  report  to  the  commander 
of  the  guard  and  he  to  the  Czar  that  you  gave  aid 
and  comfort  to  our  enemies." 

"But  what  can  I  do?"  asked  the  young  woman. 
"Monsieur  Marteau  could  certainly  shoot  me  if 
I  attempted " 

"Assuredly,"  said  Marteau,  smiling  at  her  in  a 
way  anything  but  fierce. 

It  was  that  implicit  trust  in  her  that  restrained 
her  and  saved  him.  As  a  girl  the  young  countess 
had  been  intensely  fond  of  Jean  Marteau.  He  cer 
tainly  appeared  well  in  his  present  role  before  her. 
In  the  revulsion  of  feeling  in  finding  him  not  a 
bully,  not  a  traitor,  but  a  devoted  friend  and  servi 
tor,  he  advanced  higher  in  her  estimation  than  ever 
before.  Besides,  the  young  woman  was  by  no  means 
so  thoroughgoing  a  loyalist  as  her  old  uncle,  for 
instance. 

"I  can  see  them  now,  monsieur,"  said  the  young 
peasant  from  the  peep-hole  in  the  shutter. 

Indeed,  the  men  outside  had  broken  away  from 
the  door,  groups  were  running  to  and  fro  seeking 
lights  and  some  other  entrance.  Taking  ami  at  the 
nearest  Marteau  pulled  the  trigger  and  Pierre  fol 
lowed  his  example.  The  noise  of  the  explosions  was 
succeeded  by  a  scream  of  anguish,  one  man  was 
severely  wounded  and  another  killed.  Something 
mysterious  had  happened  while  they  had  been  off  on 
the  wild  goose  chase  apparently,  the  Russians  de 
cided.  The  chateau  had  been  seized,  their  officers 
had  been  made  way  with,  it  was  held  by  the  en 
emy. 


THE  EMPEROR  AT  BAY        103 

"They  can't  be  anything  more  than  wandering 
peasants/'  cried  an  imperious  voice  in  Russian  out 
side.  "I  thought  you  had  made  thorough  work  with 
them  all,  Scoref,"  continued  the  speaker.  "Your 
Cossacks  must  have  failed  to  complete  the  job." 

"It  will  be  the  first  time,"  answered  Scoref,  the 
hetman  of  the  raiders.  "Look,  the  village  burns!" 

"Well,  what's  to  be  done  now?"  said  the  first 
voice. 

"I  don't  know,  Baron,"  was  the  answer.  "Besieg 
ing  castles  is  more  in  your  line  than  in  mine." 

"Shall  we  fire  again,  monsieur?"  asked  Pierre 
within. 

"No,"  was  the  answer.  "Remember  we've  only 
got  eight  shots  and  we  must  wait." 

"Let  us  have  lights,"  cried  the  commander  of 
the  squadron.  "Here,  take  one  of  those  wagons 
and- 

In  a  few  moments  a  bright  fire  was  blazing  in  the 
courtyard. 

"The  shots  came  from  those  windows,"  continued 

the  Russian.  "Keep  out  of  the  way  and Isn't 

that  a  window  open  up  there?" 

"It  is,  it  is!"  came  the  answer  from  a  dozen 
throats. 

All  the  talk  being  in  Russian  was,  of  course,  not 
understood  by  the  two  Frenchmen. 

"One  of  you  climb  up  there,"  continued  the  Rus 
sian.  "You  see  the  spout,  and  the  coping,  that  but 
tress?  Ten  roubles  to  the  man  who  does  it." 

A  soldier  sprang  forward.  Those  within  could 
hear  his  heavy  body  rub  along  the  wall.  They  did 


104  THE  EAGLE  OF  THE  EMPIRE 

not  know  what  he  was  doing  or  what  was  toward. 
They  were  in  entire  ignorance  that  a  shutter  had 
become  detached  from  its  hinges  in  the  room  above 
the  drawing-room  and  that  they  would  soon  have 
to  face  an  attack  from  the  rear.  The  man  who 
climbed  fancied  himself  perfectly  secure,  and  in 
deed  he  was  from  those  within.  It  was  a  hard  climb, 
but  presently  he  reached  the  window-ledge.  His 
hands  clasped  it,  he  made  a  brave  effort,  drew  him 
self  up  and  on  the  instant  from  beyond  the  wagons 
came  a  pistol  shot.  The  man  shrieked,  released  his 
hold  and  fell  crashing  to  the  ground.  The  besiegers 
broke  into  wild  outcries.  Some  of  them  ran  in  the 
direction  whence  the  shot  had  come.  They  thought 
they  caught  the  glimpse  of  a  figure  running  away 
in  the  darkness.  Pistols  were  fired  and  the  vicinity 
was  thoroughly  searched,  but  they  found  nothing. 

The  shot,  the  man's  cry  overhead,  the  body  crash 
ing  down  to  the  ground,  enlightened  Marteau.  He 
handed  Pierre  two  of  the  six  remaining  pistols,  told 
him  to  run  to  the  floor  above  and  watch  the  window. 
The  young  peasant  crossed  himself  and  turned 
away.  He  found  the  room  easily  enough.  It  was 
impossible  to  barricade  the  window,  but  he  drew 
back  in  the  darkness  and  waited. 

Having  found  no  one  in  the  grove  beyond  the 
baggage-wagons,  the  Russians  called  for  another 
volunteer  and  a  second  man  offered.  Pierre  heard 
him  coming,  permitted  him  to  gain  the  ledge  and 
then  thrust  the  pistol  in  his  face  and  pulled  the 
trigger.  At  the  same  time  a  big  Cossack  coming 
within  easy  range  and  standing  outlined  between 


THE  EMPEROR  AT  BAY        105 

the  loophole  and  the  fire,  Marteau  gave  him  his  sec 
ond  bullet,  with  fatal  effect.  There  flashed  into  his 
mind  that  the  shot  which  had  come  so  opportunely 
from  outside  bespoke  the  arrival  of  his  friend,  the 
grenadier.  He  hoped  the  man  would  have  sense 
enough  to  go  immediately  to  Sezanne  and  report  the 
situation.  If  he  could  maintain  the  defense  of  the 
castle  for  two  hours  he  might  be  rescued.  He 
stepped  to  the  hall  and  called  up  to  Pierre.  Re 
ceiving  a  cheery  reply  to  the  effect  that  all  was  well 
and  that  he  would  keep  good  watch,  he  came  back 
into  the  great  hall  and  resumed  his  ward. 


CHAPTER  VIII 

A  TRIAL  OF  ALLEGIANCE 

MADEMOISELLE  D'AUMENIER  had  seated  herself  at 
a  table  and  remained  there  in  spite  of  the  entreaties 
and  black  looks  of  the  prisoners.  Marteau  did  not 
dare  to  leave  his  loophole,  but  the  necessity  for 
watching  did  not  prevent  him  from  talking.  The 
men  outside  seemed  to  have  decided  that  nothing 
more  could  be  done  for  the  present.  They  withdrew 
from  out  of  range  of  the  deadly  fire  of  the  defenders 
and,  back  of  the  wagons,  kindled  fires,  and  seemed 
to  be  preparing  to  make  a  night  of  it. 

The  best  officers  of  the  detachment  were  prison 
ers  in  the  chateau.  The  subordinate  who  had  been 
entrusted  with  the  pursuit  was  young  and  inex 
perienced;  the  Cossack  commander  was  a  mere 
raider.  They  themselves  belonged  to  the  cavalry. 
They  decided,  after  inspecting  the  whole  building 
carefully  as  nearly  as  they  dared  in  view  of  the  con 
stant  threat  of  discharge,  that  they  would  have  to 
wait  until  morning,  unless  something  occurred  to 
them  or  some  chance  favored  them.  They  trusted 
that  at  daylight  they  would  have  no  difficulty  in 
effecting  an  entrance  somewhere.  A  total  of  three 
men  dead  and  one  wounded,  to  say  nothing  of  the 
sentries  and  officers,  had  a  discouraging  effect  on 

106 


THE  EMPEROR  AT  BAY        107 

night  work.  They  did  not  dream  that  there  was  an 
enemy,  a  French  soldier,  that  is,  nearer  than  Troyes. 
They  supposed  that  the  castle  had  been  seized  by 
some  of  the  enraged  country  people  who  had  escaped 
the  Cossacks  and  that  they  could  easily  deal  with 
them  in  the  morning. 

Incidentally,  the  wine  cellars  in  which  the  peas 
ants  had  been  shut  had  openings  to  the  outer  air, 
and  through  them  came  shouts  and  cries  which 
added  to  the  mystification  of  the  besiegers  and  in 
creased  their  prudence.  The  walls  of  the  chateau 
were  massive,  the  floors  thick,  the  wine  cellar  far 
away,  and  no  sound  came  from  them  to  the  in 
mates  of  the  great  hall.  Indeed,  in  the  exciting 
adventure  that  had  taken  place,  the  raiders  had  been 
completely  forgot  by  Marteau  and  the  others. 

The  conversation  in  the  hall  was  not  animated. 
The  Countess  Laure,  womanlike,  at  last  began  to 
ask  questions. 

"Monsieur  Marteau,"  she  asked  persuasively,  "will 
you  hear  reason?" 

"I  will  hear  anything,  mademoiselle,  from  you," 
was  the  instant  reply. 

"Think  of  the  unhappy  state  of  France." 

"I  have  had  reason  enough  to  think  of  it  to-night, 

mademoiselle.  My  father  and  my  sister "  his 

voice  faltered. 

"I  know,"  said  the  girl  sympathetically,  and,  in 
deed,  she  was  deeply  grieved  for  the  misfortunes  of 
the  faithful  and  devoted  old  man  and  the  young 
girl  she  had  loved.  She  waited  a  moment  and  then 


108    THE  EAGLE  OF  THE  EMPIRE 

continued.  "The  Emperor  is  at  last  facing  defeat. 
His  cause  is  hopeless." 

"He  yet  lives,"  answered  the  soldier  softly. 

"Yes,  of  course,"  said  the  woman.  "I  do  not  un 
derstand  the  military  situation,  but  my  friends " 

"Will  monsieur  allow  me  the  favor  of  a  word?" 
interposed  the  chief  Russian  officer  courteously. 

"If  it  is  not  to  summon  assistance  you  may  speak," 
replied  Marteau. 

"As  a  soldier  you  know  the  situation  as  well  as 
I,"  continued  the  Russian.  "Prince  Von  Schwarzen- 
berg  has  Napoleon  in  his  grasp.  He  will  hold  him 
until  he  is  ready  to  seize  him,  while  Field-Marshal 
Bliicher  takes  Paris." 

"The  Emperor  yet  lives,"  said  Marteau,  repeat 
ing  his  former  remark  with  more  emphasis  and  smil 
ing  somewhat  scornfully.  "It  is  not  wise  to  por 
tion  the  lion's  skin  while  it  covers  his  beating  heart," 
he  added  meaningly. 

"Not  even  the  genius  of  your  Emperor,"  persisted 
the  Russian  more  earnestly,  "will  avail  now,  mon 
sieur.  He  is  lost,  his  cause  as  well.  Why,  this  very 
convoy  tells  the  story.  We  intercepted  letters  that 
told  how  pressing  was  its  need.  Your  army  is  with 
out  arms,  without  food,  without  clothes." 

"It  still  has  its  Emperor." 

"Death!"  cried  the  Russian  impatiently.  "Must 
we  kill  him  in  order  to  teach  you  a  lesson?" 

"You  will  not  kill  him  while  there  is  a  soldier  in 
France  to  interpose  his  body." 

"Very  heroic,  doubtless,"  sneered  the  Russian,  be- 


THE  EMPEROR  AT  BAY        109 

ginning  to  get  angry.  "But  you  know  your  cause  is 
lost." 

"And  if  it  were?" 

"Be  reasonable.  There  are  many  Frenchmen  with 
the  allied  armies.  Your  rank  is ?" 

"I  am  a  Major  on  the  Emperor's  staff  if  you  are 
interested  to  know." 

"Major  Marteau,  I  have  no  doubt  that  my  in 
terest  with  my  Emperor,  the  Czar  Alexander,  with 
whom  I  am  remotely  connected — I  may  say  I  am  a 
favorite  officer  in  his  guard — would  doubtless  in 
sure  you  a  Colonel's  commission,  perhaps  even  that 
of  a  General  of  Brigade,  with  my  gracious  master, 
or  in  the  army  of  King  Louis  after  we  have  replaced 
him  on  his  throne  if " 

"If  what?" 

"If  you  release  us,  restore  us  to  our  command. 
Permit  us  to  send  for  horses  to  take  the  place  of 
those  we  have  killed  to  take  the  wagons  of  the 
valuable  convoy  to  our  own  army." 

"And  you  would  have  me  abandon  my  Emperor?" 

"For  the  good  of  France,"  urged  the  Russian 
meaningly. 

"Will  you  answer  me  a  question,  monsieur?"  con 
tinued  the  young  man  after  a  moment's  deep 
thought. 

"Certainly,  if  it  be  not  treason  to  my  master." 

"Oh,  you  have  views  on  treason,  then,"  said  the 
Frenchman  adroitly  and  not  giving  the  other  time 
to  answer  he  continued.  "To  what  corps  are  you 
attached?" 

"Count  Sacken's." 


110    THE  EAGLE  OF  THE  EMPIRE 

"And  whose  division?" 

"General  Olsuvieff's." 

"Monsieur,"  said  the  young  Frenchman  calmly, 
"it  is  more  than  probable  that  before  to-morrow 
your  division  will  be  annihilated  and  the  next  day 
the  corps  of  General  Sacken  may  meet  the  same 
fate." 

The  Russian  laughed  scornfully  at  what  seemed  to 
him  the  wildest  boasting. 

"Are  you  mad?" 

"Not  so  mad  as  you  will  be  when  it  happens." 

The  Russian  controlled  himself  with  difficulty  in 
the  face  of  the  irritating  observations. 

"And  who  will  do  this?"  he  asked,  at  last. 

"The  Emperor." 

"Does  he  command  the  lightning-flash  that  he 
could  hurl  the  thunder-bolt  from  Troyes?" 

"Upon  my  word,  I  believe  he  does,"  laughed  the 
Frenchman. 

"This  is  foolish  jesting,  boy,"  broke  out  the  Eng 
lishman.  "I  am  a  man  of  consideration  in  my  own 
country.  The  lady  here  will  bear  me  out.  I  offered 
you  fifty  pounds.  I  will  give  you  five  hundred  if  you 
will  release  us  and " 

"And  I  offer  you  my — friendship,"  said  the 
Countess,  making  a  long  pause  before  the  last  word. 

How  much  of  it  she  meant  or  how  little  no  one 
could  say.  Any  ruse  was  fair  in  war  like  this.  Mar- 
teau  looked  at  her.  The  color  flamed  to  her  cheek 
and  died  away.  It  had  flamed  into  his  cheek  and 
died  away  also. 

"Gentlemen,"    he    said,    "you    offer    me   rank, 


THE  EMPEROR  AT  BAY        111 

money "  he  paused — "friendship "  he  shot  a 

meaning  glance  at  the  young  girl.  He  paused  again. 

"Well?"  said  the  Russian. 

"Speak  out/'  said  the  Englishman.  "Your  an 
swer,  lad?" 

"I  refuse." 

"Don't  be  a  fool,"  roared  Sir  Gervaise  bluntly. 

"I  refuse,  I  repeat,"  said  Marteau.  "While  the 
Emperor  lives  I  am  his  man.  Not  rank,  not  money, 
not  friendship,  not  love  itself  even  could  move  me. 
Enough,  gentlemen,"  he  continued  imperiously  as 
the  two  Russians  and  the  Englishman  all  began  to 
speak  at  once.  "No  more.  Such  propositions  are 
insults." 

"There  is  another  appeal  which  ought  to  be 
brought  to  your  attention,  young  sir,"  said  the  sec 
ond  Russian  officer  when  he  could  be  heard. 

"And  what  is  that?" 

"Your  life.  You  know  that  as  soon  as  day  breaks 
the  chateau  will  be  seized.  You  are  a  self-con 
fessed  spy.  You  came  here  wearing  a  Russian  uni 
form.  As  soon  as  we  are  released  we  shall  hang  you 
as  a  spy.  But  if  you  release  us  now,  on  my  word 
of  honor  you  shall  go  free." 

"Monsieur  is  a  very  brave  man,"  said  Marteau 
smiling. 

"Why?" 

"To  threaten  me  with  death  while  he  is  in  my 
power.  You  are  the  only  witnesses.  I  could  make 
way  with  you  all." 

"You  forget  the  Countess  and  the  English  gen 
tleman." 


112    THE  EAGLE  OF  THE  EMPIRE 

"Although  the  Countess  is  the  enemy  of 
France " 

"Nay,  nay,  the  friend,"  interposed  the  girl. 

"Be  it  so.  Although  she  is  the  enemy  of  the 
Emperor  then,  I  cannot  believe  that  she  could  con 
demn  to  death  by  her  testimony  the  man  who  has 
saved  her  from  worse  than  death,  and  as  for  the 
English  gentleman " 

"Damme  if  I'd  say  a  word  to  hurt  you,  if  only  for 
what  you  have  done  for  her,  whether  you  release  me 
or  not,"  cried  Yeovil. 

"You  see?" 

"Monsieur  Jean,"  said  the  Countess,  "you  put  me 
under  great  obligations  to  you." 

"By  saving  your  life,  your  honor,  mademoiselle! 
I  gladly "  ' 

"By  giving  me  your  confidence,"  interrupted  the 
girl,  who  in  her  secret  heart  was  delighted  at  the 
stand  the  young  officer  had  taken.  She  would  have 
despised  him  if  he  had  succumbed  to  the  tempta 
tion  of  which  she  herself  was  part. 

"I  could  do  no  less,  mademoiselle,"  returned  Mar- 
teau.  "I  and  my  forbears  have  served  your  house 
and  known  it  and  loved  it  for  eight  hundred  years." 

"I  know  it,"  answered  the  girl.  "I  value  the  as 
sociation.  I  am  proud  of  it." 

"And  since  you  know  it  and  recognize  it  perhaps 
you  will  tell  me  how  you  happen  to  be  here." 

"Willingly,"  answered  Mademoiselle  Laure.  "The 
estates  are  to  be  sold.  There  are  deeds  and  papers 
of  value  in  the  chateau  without  which  transactions 
could  not  be  completed.  I  alone  knew  where  they 


THE  EMPEROR  AT  BAY        113 

were.  With  Monsieur  Yeovil,  my  uncle's  friend  and 

the  father  of "  she  hesitated  and  then  went  on, 

"so  I  came  to  France." 

"But  with  the  invading  armies " 

"There  was  no  other  way.  The  Czar  Alexander 
gave  me  a  safe  conduct.  A  company  of  his  guards 
escorted  us.  Sir  Gervaise  Yeovil  was  accredited  to 
Lord  Castlereagh,  but  with  his  permission  he 
brought  me  here  first.  My  uncle  was  too  old  to 
come.  Arrived  here  we  found  the  Cossacks,  the 
wagon- train.  There  was  a  battle,  a  victory,  pursuit. 
Then  those  villains  seized  us.  They  stole  upon  us 
unsuspecting,  having  murdered  the  sentries,  and 
then  you  came." 

"I  see.    And  have  you  the  papers?" 

"They  are Not  yet,  but  I  may  take  them?" 

"Assuredly,  so  far  as  I  am  concerned,"  answered 
Marteau,  "although  I  regret  to  see  the  old  estate 
pass  out  of  the  hands  of  the  ancient  family." 

"I  regret  it  also,  but  I  am  powerless." 

"We  played  together  here  as  children,"  said  Mar 
teau.  "My  father  has  kept  it  well  since.  Your 
father  died  and  now  mine  is  gone " 

"And  I  am  very  sorry,"  answered  the  young 
woman  softly. 

Marteau  turned  away,  peered  out  of  the  window 
and  sank  into  gloomy  silence. 


CHAPTER   IX 

THE  EMPEROR  EATS  AND  RIDES 

SEZANNE  was  a  scene  of  the  wildest  confusion  that 
night.  It  was  congested  with  troops  and  more  and 
more  were  arriving  every  minute.  They  entered  the 
town  in  fearful  condition.  They  had  been  weary 
and  ragged  and  naked  before.  Now  they  were  in 
a  state  of  extreme  prostration;  wet,  cold,  covered 
with  mud.  The  roads  were  blocked  with  mired  ar 
tillery,  the  guns  were  sunk  into  the  mud  to  the  hubs, 
the  tired  horses  could  no  longer  move  them.  The 
woods  on  either  side  were  full  of  stragglers,  many 
of  whom  had  dropped  down  on  the  wet  ground  and 
slept  the  sleep  of  complete  exhaustion.  Some,  in 
deed,  sick  and  helpless,  died  where  they  lay.  Every 
thing  eatable  and  drinkable  in  Sezanne  had  vanished 
as  a  green  field  before  a  swarm  of  locusts  when  Mar- 
mont's  division  had  come  through  some  hours  be 
fore. 

The  town  boasted  a  little  square  or  open  space 
in  the  midst.  A  huge  fire  was  burning  in  the  center 
of  this  open  space.  A  cordon  of  grenadiers  kept  the 
ground  about  the  fire  clear  of  stragglers.  Suddenly 
the  Emperor  rode  into  the  midst.  He  was  followed 
by  a  wet,  cold,  mud-spattered,  bedraggled  staff,  all 
of  them  unutterably  weary.  Intense  resolution 

114 


THE  EMPEROR  AT  BAY        115 

blazed  in  the  Emperor's  eyes.  He  had  had  nothing 
to  eat  or  drink  since  morning,  but  that  ancient  bod 
ily  vigor,  that  wonderful  power  of  endurance,  which 
had  stood  him  in  such  good  stead  in  days  gone  by, 
seemed  to  have  come  back  to  him  now.  He  was  all 
fire  and  energy  and  determination.  So  soon  as  his 
presence  was  known,  couriers  reported  to  him. 
Many  of  them  he  stopped  with  questions. 

"The  convoy  of  arms,  provisions,  powder,"  he 
snapped  out  to  an  officer  of  Marmont's  division 
approaching  him,  "which  was  to  meet  us  here.  Have 
you  seen  it?" 

"It  has  not  appeared,  Sire." 

"Has  anything  been  heard  of  it?" 

"Nothing  yet,  your  Majesty." 

"Have  you  scouted  for  it,  sent  out  parties  to  find 
it?  Where  is  the  Comte  de  Grouchy?" 

"I  come  from  him,  Sire.  He  is  ahead  of  the  Duke 
of  Ragusa's  corps." 

"Has  he  come  in  touch  with  the  enemy?" 

"Not  yet,  Sire." 

"The  roads?" 

"Worse  than  those  we  have  passed  over." 

"Marshal  Marmont?" 

"I  was  ordered  by  General  Grouchy  to  report  to 
him  and  then " 

"Well,  sir?" 

"He  sent  me  back  here." 

"For  what  purpose?" 

"To  find  you,  Sire,  and  to  say  to  you  most  re 
spectfully  from  the  Marshal  that  the  roads  are  ab 
solutely  impassable.  He  has  put  four  teams  to  a 


116    THE  EAGLE  OF  THE  EMPIRE 

gun  and  can  scarcely  move  them.  To  advance  is 
impossible.  He  but  awaits  your  order  to  retrace 
his  steps." 

"Retrace  his  steps!"  shouted  Napoleon,  raising 
his  voice.  "Never!  He  must  go  on.  Our  only  hope, 
our  only  chance,  salvation  lies  in  an  instant  ad 
vance.  He  knows  that  as  well  as  I." 

"But  the  guns,  Sire?" 

"Abandon  the  guns  if  necessary.  We'll  take  what 
cannon  we  need  from  the  enemy." 

And  that  admission  evidenced  the  force  with 
which  the  Emperor  held  his  convictions  as  to  the 
present  movement.  Great,  indeed,  was  the  neces 
sity  which  would  induce  Napoleon  to  order  the 
abandonment  of  a  single  gun. 

"But,  Sire- 

"Monsieur,"  said  Napoleon  severely,  "you  are  a 
young  officer,  although  you  wear  the  insignia  of  a 
Colonel.  Know  that  I  am  not  accustomed  to  have 
my  commands  questioned  by  anyone.  You  will  re 
turn  to  Marshal  Marmont  at  once.  Exchange  your 
tired  horse  for  one  of  my  own.  I  still  have  a  fresh 
one,  I  believe.  And  spare  him  not.  Tell  the  Due 
de  Ragusa  that  he  must  advance  at  all  hazards.  Ad 
vance  with  the  guns  if  he  can,  if  not  then  without 

them.     Stay,  as  for  the  guns Where  is  the 

Mayor  of  the  town?" 

"Here,  Sire,"  answered  a  plain,  simple  man  in 
civilian's  dress  standing  near. 

"Are  there  any  horses  left  in  the  countryside, 
monsieur?" 


THE  EMPEROR  AT  BAY        117 

"Many,  your  Majesty,  wherever  the  Russians 
have  not  passed." 

"I  thought  so.  Gentlemen,"  the  Emperor  turned 
to  his  staff,  "ride  in  every  direction.  Take  the 
mounted  escort.  Bid  them  scatter.  Go  to  every 
village  and  farm.  Ask  my  good  French  people  to 
bring  their  horses  in,  to  lend  them  to  the  Emperor. 
It  is  for  France.  I  strike  the  last  blow  for  them, 
their  homes,  their  wives  and  children.  Fortune 
smiles  upon  us.  The  enemy  is  delivered  into  our 
hands.  They  shall  be  liberally  rewarded." 

"The  men  are  hungry,"  cried  a  voice  from  a  dark 
group  of  officers  in  the  background. 

"They  are  weary,"  exclaimed  another,  under  cover 
of  the  darkness. 

"Who  spoke?"  asked  the  Emperor,  but  he  did 
not  wait  for  an  answer,  perhaps  he  did  not  care  for 
one.  "I,  too,  am  hungry,  I,  your  Emperor,  and  I 
am  weary.  I  have  eaten  nothing  and  have  ridden 
the  day  long.  There  is  bread,  there  are  guns  in  the 
Field-Marshal's  army.  We  shall  take  from  Bliicher 
all  that  we  need.  Then  we  can  rest.  You  hear?" 

"We  hear,  Sire." 

"Good.    Whose  division  is  yonder?" 

"Mine,  Sire,"  answered  Marshal  Ney,  riding  up 
and  saluting. 

"Ah,  Prince,"  said  Napoleon,  riding  over  toward 
him.  "Michael,"  he  added  familiarly  as  he  drew 
nearer,  "I  am  confident  that  the  Prussians  have  no 
idea  that  we  are  nearer  than  Troyes  to  them.  We 
must  get  forward  with  what  we  can  at  once  and  fall 


118    THE  EAGLE  OF  THE  EMPIRE 

on  them  before  they  learn  of  our  arrival  and  con 
centrate.  We  must  move  swiftly." 

"To-morrow,"  suggested  Ney. 

"To-night." 

"The  conscripts  of  my  young  guard  are  in  a  state 
of  great  exhaustion  and  depression.  If  they  could 
have  the  night  to  rest  in " 

Napoleon  shook  his  head. 

"Advance  with  those  who  can  march,"  he  said  de 
cisively.  "We  must  fall  on  Blucher  in  the  morning 
or  we  are  lost." 

"Impossible!"  ejaculated  Ney. 

"I  banished  that  word  from  my  vocabulary  when 
I  first  went  into  Italy,"  said  Napoleon.  "Where 
are  your  troops?" 

"Here,  your  Majesty,"  answered  Ney,  turning, 
pointing  back  to  dark  huddled  ranks  drooping  over 
their  muskets  at  parade  rest. 

Napoleon  wheeled  his  horse  and  trotted  over  to 
them.  The  iron  hand  of  Ney  had  kept  some  sort 
of  discipline  and  some  sort  of  organization,  but  the 
distress  and  dismay  of  the  conscripts  was  but  too 
plainly  evident. 

"My  friends,"  said  the  Emperor,  raising  his  voice, 
"you  are  hungry "  a  dull  murmur  of  acquies 
cence  came  from  the  battalion — "you  are  weary  and 
cold "  a  louder  murmur — "you  are  discour 
aged "  silence.  "Some  of  you  have  no  arms. 

You  would  fain  rest.  Well  I,  your  Emperor,  am 
weary,  I  am  hungry,  I  am  old  enough  to  be  the 
father  of  most  of  you  and  I  am  wet  and  cold.  But 
we  must  forget  those  things.  You  wonder  why  I 


THE  EMPEROR  AT  BAY        119 

have  marched  you  all  the  day  and  most  of  the 
night  through  the  cold  and  the  wet  and  the  mud. 
The  Prussians  are  in  front  of  us.  They  are  drawn 
out  in  long  widely  separated  columns.  They  have 
no  idea  that  we  are  near  them.  One  more  effort, 
one  more  march,  and  we  shall  fall  upon  them.  We 
shall  pierce  their  lines,  cut  them  to  pieces,  beat 
them  in  detail;  we  shall  seize  their  camps,  their 
guns,  their  clothes,  their  food.  We  shall  take  back 
the  plunder  they  have  gathered  as  they  have  rav 
aged  France.  They  have  stolen  and  destroyed  and 
murdered — you  have  seen  it.  One  more  march,  one 

more  battle  for "  he  hesitated  a  moment — "for 

me,"  he  said  with  magnificent  egotism  and  audacity. 
"I  have  not  forgotten  how  to  lead,  nor  you  to  follow. 
We  will  show  them  that  at  the  great  game  of  war 
we  are  still  master  players.  Come,  if  there  be  one 
too  weary  to  walk,  he  shall  have  his  Emperor's  horse 
and  I  will  march  afoot  as  I  have  often  done  for 
France." 

He  spoke  with  all  his  old  force  and  power.  The 
tremendous  personal  magnetism  of  the  man  was 
never  more  apparent.  The  young  men  of  Ney's 
corps  thrilled  to  the  splendid  appeal.  There  was 
something  fascinating,  alluring  in  the  picture.  They 
hated  the  Prussians.  They  had  seen  the  devastated 
fields,  the  dead  men  and  women,  the  ruined  farms. 
The  light  from  the  fire  played  mystically  about  the 
great  Emperor  on  his  white  horse.  He  seemed  to 
them  like  a  demi-god.  There  were  a  few  old  soldiers 
in  the  battalion.  The  habit  of  years  was  upon  them. 

"Vive  I'Empereur"  one  veteran  shouted. 


120     THE  EAGLE  OF  THE  EMPIRE 

Another  caught  it  up  and  finally  the  whole  di 
vision  roared  out  that  frightful  and  thrilling  battle 
cry  in  unison. 

"That's  well,"  said  the  Emperor,  a  little  color 
coming  into  his  face.  "If  the  lads  are  of  this  mettle, 
what  may  I  expect  of  the  old  soldiers  of  the  guard?" 

"Forward!  Forward!"  shouted  a  beardless  boy  in 
one  of  the  front  ranks. 

"You  hear,  Marshal  Ney?"  said  Napoleon,  turn 
ing  to  his  fighting  Captain.  "With  such  soldiers 
as  these  I  can  go  anywhere  and  do  anything." 

"Your  Majesty,"  cried  a  staff  officer,  riding  up  at 
a  gallop,  "the  peasants  are  bringing  their  horses 
in.  There  is  a  section  of  country  to  the  eastward 
which  has  not  yet  been  ridden  over  by  the  enemy." 

"Good,"  said  the  Emperor.  "As  fast  as  they 
come  up  dispatch  them  to  Marmont.  You  will  find 
me  there  by  the  fire  in  the  square  for  the  next  hour. 
Meanwhile  I  want  the  next  brigade  of  horse  that 
reaches  Sezanne  to  be  directed  to  scout  in  the  di 
rection  of  Aumenier  for  that  missing  wagon-train 
for  which  we " 

There  was  a  sudden  confusion  on  the  edge  of  the 
line.  The  grenadiers  forming  a  circle  around  the 
fire  had  caught  a  man  wearing  a  Russian  greatcoat 
and  were  dragging  him  into  the  light. 

"What's  this?  Mon  Dieu!"  exclaimed  Napoleon, 
recognizing  the  green  uniform  which  he  had  seen 
on  many  a  battlefield.  "A  Russian!  Here!" 

"A  soldier  of  France,  Sire,"  came  the  astonishing 
answer  in  excellent  French  from  the  supposed 
prisoner. 


THE  EMPEROR  AT  BAY        121 

At  this  amazing  remark  in  their  own  tongue  the 
bewildered  grenadiers  on  guard  released  him.  He 
tore  off  the  green  cap  and  dashed  it  to  the  ground. 

"Give  me  a  shako.  Let  me  feel  the  bearskin  of 
the  guard  again,"  he  cried  impetuously,  as  his  hands 
ripped  open  his  overcoat,  disclosing  his  uniform.  "I 
am  a  grenadier  of  the  line,  Sire." 

Napoleon  peered  down  at  him. 

"Ah,"  he  said,  "I  know  you.    You  are  called " 

"Bal-Arret,  your  Majesty." 

"Exactly.  Have  you  stopped  any  more  this 
time?" 

"There  is  one  in  my  left  arm.  Your  guards  hurt 
when  they  grasped  it.  But  it  is  nothing.  I  didn't 
come  here  to  speak  of  bullets,  but  of " 

"What?" 

"The  Russians,  the  Prussians." 

"Where  did  you  get  that  coat  and  cap?" 

"I  rode  with  Jean  Marteau,"  answered  the 
grenadier,  greatly  excited. 

"What  of  him?    Is  he  alive?" 

"I  think  so." 

"Did  you  leave  him?" 

"I  did,  Sire." 

"And  why?" 

"To  bring  you  news." 

"Of  Marshal  Bliicher's  armies?" 

The  grenadier  nodded  his  head. 

"What  of  them?  Quick  man,  your  tidings?  Have 
you  been  among  them?" 

"All  day  long." 

"Where  are  they?" 


122    THE  EAGLE  OF  THE  EMPIRE 

"General  Yorck  with  his  men  is  at  Etampes." 
"And  Macdonald?" 

"Fighting  a  rearguard  action  beyond  Chateau- 
Thierry." 

"On  what  side  of  the  Marne?" 

"The  north  side,  Sire.  Right  at  La  Ferte-sous- 
Jouarre." 

"What  else?" 

"Sacken's  Russians  are  advancing  along  the  main 
road  through  Montmirail  toward  Paris.  Olusuvieff  s 
Russian  division  is  at  Champaubert." 

"And  where  are  Bliicher  and  Wittgenstein  and 
Wrede?" 

"Major  Marteau  will  have  to  tell  you  that,  Sire. 
He  went  that  way." 

"You  separated?" 

"Yes,  Sire." 

"You  were  to  meet  somewhere?" 

"At  the  Chateau  d'Aumenier." 

"Did  you  go  there?" 

"I  did,  Sire." 

"And   you  found?" 

"The  ground  around  the  chateau  filled  with 
wagons." 

"A  train?" 

"Of  arms,  clothing,  ammunition,  everything  the 
army  lacks." 

"What  was  it  doing  there?" 

"There  had  been  a  battle.  Horses  and  men  were 
slain;  Frenchmen,  Cossacks,  Russians.  I  pillaged 
one  wagon,"  continued  the  grenadier. 

He  drew  forth  from  the  pocket  of  the  coat  a 


THE  EMPEROR  AT  BAY        123 

bottle  and  a  handful  of  hard  bread,  together  with 
what  remained  of  the  roast  pig. 

"Will  you  share  your  meal  with  a  brother  soldier?" 
asked  the  Emperor,  who  was  ordinarily  the  most 
fastidious  of  mortals,  but  who  could  on  occasion 
assume  the  manner  of  the  rudest  private  soldier. 

"Gladly,"  said  the  proud  and  delighted  grenadier, 
handing  the  bottle,  the  bread  and  the  meat  to  Na 
poleon,  who  took  them  and  drank  and  ate  rap 
idly  as  he  continued  to  question  amid  the  approving 
murmurs  of  the  soldiers,  who  were  so  delighted  to 
see  their  Emperor  eat  like  a  common  man  that  they 
quite  forgot  their  own  hunger. 

"What  were  the  wagons  doing  there  unguarded?" 

"I  think  the  men  who  captured  the  tram  were 
pursuing  its  guard.  Just  as  I  approached  the  cha 
teau  they  came  riding  back.  I  remained  quiet, 
watching  them  ride  up  to  the  door  of  the  house, 
which  they  found  barred  apparently,  for  I  could 
hear  them  beat  on  it  with  the  butts  of  their  sabers 
and  pistols.  They  built  a  fire  and  suddenly  I  heard 
shots.  By  the  light  I  could  see  Russians  falling. 
It  came  into  my  mind  that  Major  Marteau  had 
seized  the  castle  and  was  holding  it." 

"Alone?" 

"One  soldier  of  yours,  Sire,  ought  to  be  able  to 
hold  his  own  against  a  thousand  Russians,  espe 
cially  inside  a  castle  wall." 

"And  what  did  you  then?" 

"I  made  ready  my  pistol,  Sire,  and  when  I  saw 
a  man  climbing  the  wall  to  get  in  an  open  window  I 
shot  him." 


124    THE  EAGLE  OF  THE  EMPIRE 

"And  then?" 

"They  ran  after  me,  fired  at  me  but  I  escaped  in 
the  darkness." 

"You  ran?" 

"Because  I  knew  that  you  must  have  the  news 
and  as  Marteau  was  there  it  was  necessary  for  me 
to  bring  it." 

"You  have  done  well,"  said  the  Emperor  in  great 
satisfaction.  "I  thank  you  for  your  tidings  and 
your  meal.  I  have  never  tasted  a  better.  Do  you 
wish  to  go  to  the  rear?" 

"For  a  scratch  in  the  arm?"  asked  old  Bullet- 
Stopper  scornfully.  "I,  who  have  carried  balls  in  my 
breast  and  have  some  there  now?" 

"I  like  your  spirit,"  said  the  Emperor,  "and  I 
will " 

At  this  instant  a  staff  officer  rode  up. 

"General  Maurice's  cavalry  is  just  arriving,  Sire," 
he  said. 

"Good,"  said  the  Emperor.  "The  brave  light- 
horseman!  My  sword  hand!  I  will  ride  with  him 
myself.  Tell  the  Comte  de  Vivonne  to  lead  his  divi 
sion  toward  Aumenier,  I  will  join  him  at  once."  He 
turned  to  those  of  his  staff  who  remained  in  the 
square.  "Remain  here,  gentlemen.  Tell  the  arriv 
ing  troops  that  at  daybreak  we  shall  beat  the  Rus 
sians  at  Champaubert.  Bid  them  hasten  if  they 
would  take  part  in  the  victory  and  the  plunder. 
The  rest  will  be  easy." 

"And  you,  Sire?" 

"I  ride  with  the  cavalry  brigade  to  Aumenier. 
Tell  the  men  that  the  wagon-train  has  arrived.  We 


THE  EMPEROR  AT  BAY        125 

shall  seize  it.  Food,  arms,  will  be  distributed  in 
the  morning.  Is  that  you,  Maurice?"  he  continued, 
as  a  gallant  young  general  officer  attended  by  a  few 
aides  rode  up. 

"At  your  service,  Sire,"  answered  a  gay  voice. 

"Your  cavalry?" 

"Weary  but  ready  to  follow  the  Emperor  any 
where." 

"Forward,  then.  There  is  food  and  drink  at  the 
end  of  our  ride.  It  is  but  a  few  miles  to  Aumenier." 

"May  I  have  a  horse  and  go  with  you,  Sire?" 
asked  the  old  grenadier. 

"Assuredly.  See  that  he  gets  one  and  a  Cross  of 
the  Legion  of  Honor,  too.  Come,  gentlemen,"  con 
tinued  the  Emperor,  putting  spurs  to  his  tired  horse. 


CHAPTER   X 

HOW  MARTEAU  WON  THE  CROSS 

FOR  a  long  time  the  besiegers  had  given  little  evi 
dence  of  their  presence.  Through  the  loop-holes  in 
the  shutters  fires  could  be  seen  burning,  figures  com 
ing  and  going.  They  were  busy  about  something, 
but  just  what  was  not  apparent.  They  had  been 
unmolested  by  the  defenders.  Marteau  had  but 
three  pistols  and  therefore  three  shots  left.  Pierre, 
upstairs,  had  but  one.  To  kill  one  or  two  more 
Russians  would  not  have  bettered  their  condition. 
The  pistols  should  be  saved  for  a  final  emergency. 
He  had  called  up  to  Pierre  and  had  cautioned  him. 
There  was  nothing  to  do  but  to  wait. 

From  time  to  time  the  silence  was  broken  by 
snatches  of  conversation.  As,  for  instance,  the 
Countess  Laure,  observing  that  Marteau  wore  upon 
his  breast  the  Grand  Cross  of  the  Legion  of  Honor, 
thus  began, 

"You  wear  a  great  decoration  for  a  simple " 

She  stopped  awkwardly. 

"For  a  simple  peasant  you  were  about  to  say, 
mademoiselle,"  answered  Marteau,  smiling  with  a 
little  touch  of  scorn.  "In  France  to-day  even  a  sim 
ple  peasant  may  deserve  and  receive  the  favor  of 
the  Emperor." 

126 


THE  EMPEROR  AT  BAY        127 

"I  am  sure  that  you  are  worthy  of  whatever  dis 
tinction  you  may  have  achieved,  monsieur,"  said 
the  Countess  gently,  grieved  at  her  lack  of  considera 
tion  and  anxious  to  make  amends.  "And  as  one 
who  takes  pride  in  all  associated  with  her  ancient 
house  will  you  tell  me  how  you  got  that?" 

"It  was  at  Leipsic." 

"Ah,  we  beat  you  there,"  said  one  Russian  mean 
ingly. 

"Yes,"  said  Marteau.  "Perhaps  after  having  seen 
your  backs  so  many  times  we  could  afford  to  turn 
ours  upon  you  once." 

"I  was  there,"  said  the  other  Russian  trium 
phantly. 

"Were  you  also  at  Friedland,  at  Eylau,  at  Boro 
dino,  at "  began  Marteau  angrily. 

"Gentlemen!"  said  the  Countess. 

"Forgive,  mademoiselle,"  said  the  Frenchman 
quickly.  "I,  at  least,  will  not  fight  our  battles  over 
in  the  presence  of  a  woman." 

"But  the  cross?" 

"It  was  nothing.  I  saved  an  eagle.  The  Em 
peror  bestowed  it  on  me." 

"Tell  me  about  it." 

"I  was  on  the  bridge  at  Leipsic  when  it  was  blown 
up  by  that  fatal  mistake.  The  Port-Aigle  was  torn 
to  pieces.  The  Colonel  seized  the  Eagle  as  it  fell 
from  his  hand.  I  was  next  to  him — afoot.  A  storm 
of  bullets  swept  over  the  river.  As  the  Colonel  on 
his  horse  was  pushed  over  the  parapet  by  the  flying 
fugitives  a  shot  struck  him.  He  had  just  strength 
enough  to  gasp  out,  'Save  the  Eagle'  as  he  was 


128    THE  EAGLE  OF  THE  EMPIRE 

swept  away.  I  was  lucky  enough  to  catch  the  staff 
— a  bullet  had  broken  it — I  seized  the  upper  half 
with  the  Eagle  and  the  flag  which  had  almost  been 
shot  to  pieces  during  the  battle — the  Fifth-of-the- 
Line  had  done  its  full  duty  that  day — and  I  swam 
with  it  toward  the  bank.  Really,  mademoiselle, 
any  soldier  would  have  done  as  well.  I  only  hap 
pened  to  be  there." 

"Go  on,  monsieur,  I  wish  to  hear  everything." 

"At  your  pleasure,  then,"  said  Marteau  reluctant 
ly,  continuing  his  story. 

"The  river  was  filled  with  men  and  horses.  Mar 
shal  Poniatowski  was  near  me.  He  had  been 
wounded,  and  guided  his  swimming  horse  with  his 
left  hand.  The  current  was  swift.  We  were  swept 
down  the  stream.  A  cavalryman  next  to  me  was 
shot  from  his  horse.  He  fell  over  upon  me.  I  was 
forced  under  water  a  moment.  Another  horse,  swim 
ming  frantically,  struck  my  shoulder  with  his  hoof, 
fortunately  it  was  the  left  one.  My  arm  was  broken. 
I  seized  the  tatters  of  the  flag  in  my  teeth — you 
know  I  am  an  expert  swimmer,  mademoiselle?" 

"I  know  it,"  answered  the  girl,  her  eyes  gleaming 
at  the  recital.  "Have  you  forgot  the  day  when,  dis 
regarding  your  warnings,  I  fell  into  the  river  and 
was  swept  away  and  how  you  plunged  in  and 
brought  me  to  the  shore  and  never  told  my  father?" 

"I  have  not  forgot,"  said  the  young  officer  sun- 
ply,  "but  it  was  not  for  me  to  remind  you." 

"And  I  have  not  forgot,  either.  But  continue  the 
story,"  said  the  young  Countess,  her  eyes  shining, 


THE  EMPEROR  AT  BAY        129 

her  breath  coming  quicker,  as  she  listened  to  the 
gallant  tale  so  modestly  set  forth. 

"With  my  right  arm  I  swam  as  best  I  could. 
There  was  a  horse  nearby  which  had  lost  his  rider. 
I  grasped  the  saddle  horn.  Somehow  I  managed 
to  reach  the  shore  with  the  Eagle.  I  clambered  up 
the  bank,  slippery  with  water  and  with  blood,  made 
moiselle.  The  Russians  were  firing  at  us  from  the 
town.  A  bullet  struck  me." 

"Where?" 

"I  am  ashamed  to  say,  in  the  back,"  said  the  sol 
dier,  flushing  at  the  recollection.  "But  if  I  had 
stood  up  and  faced  them  the  Eagle  would  have 
been  lost." 

The  Russian  laughed  scornfully. 

"In  the  back,"  he  cried  meaningly,  "a  fine  place 
for  a  soldier!" 

"Shame,"  said  the  Countess  quickly. 

"If  I  had  faced  them,"  returned  the  French  sol 
dier  simply,  "I  should  have  been  shot  in  the  breast 
and  killed,  perhaps,  but  I  should  have  lost  the  Eagle. 
It  was  my  business  to  save  the  Eagle  at  all  hazards, 
even  though  I  should  be  branded  with  cowardice 
for  having  done  so,"  he  went  on  hotly. 

"I  understand,"  said  the  Countess.  "I,  who  have 
known  you  from  a  child,  know  that  you  are  a  brave 
man,  monsieur.  Proceed." 

"I  staggered  up  the  bank.  Fortune  had  brought 
me  to  the  place  where  the  Emperor  stood  watching. 
There  were  staff  officers  about  him.  Oh,  very  few. 
The  slaughter  had  been  dreadful,  the  confusion  was 
inconceivable,  mademoiselle.  They  made  way  for 


130    THE  EAGLE  OF  THE  EMPIRE 

me.  How  well  I  remember  the  whole  scene,"  con 
tinued  the  young  Frenchman.  "The  Emperor  stood 
a  little  apart,  his  face  pale,  his  head  bent.  He  was 
frowning  and  whistling." 

"Whistling!  Damme,"  burst  out  Sir  Gervaise  Yeo- 
vil,  deeply  interested  in  the  unpretentious  account 
of  so  heroic  a  deed.  "What  was  he  whistling?" 

"Malbrook-s'en-va-t'en-guerre." 

"By  gad,"  roared  the  Englishman.  "Maryborough 
beat  you.  Just  wait  until  we  come  in  touch  with 
you." 

"There  was  no  Napoleon  there,"  observed  Mar- 
teau  simply,  as  if  that  were  adequate  answer. 

"Napoleon  or  no  Napoleon,  wait  until  Welling 
ton " 

"We  shall  wait." 

"Pardon,  Monsieur  Yeovil,"  said  the  Countess, 
"will  you  not  allow  Monsieur  Marteau  to  proceed?" 

"There  is  little  more  to  tell,  mademoiselle.  The 
Emperor  saw  me  come  up.  I  was  wet,  my  arm  hung 
useless,  the  bullet  had  gone  through  my  body. 
There  was  blood  on  my  uniform  coat.  I  thought 
that  I  was  dying,  that  my  end  was  at  hand.  My 
strength  was  ebbing.  I  concentrated  all  my  will  and 
power.  Holding  the  Eagle,  I  lifted  it  up  in  salute. 
'What  have  we  here?'  cried  the  Emperor,  fixing  his 
glance  upon  me.  'Lieutenant  Marteau/  I  answered. 
His  voice  came  to  me  as  in  a  dream  and  my  own 
voice  sounded  far  away.  'Of  what  regiment?'  'The 
Fifth-of-the-Line,  Sire.'  'You  have  saved  the  Eagle.' 
'Yes,  Sire,'  I  replied.  And  then  consciousness  left 
me.  As  I  fell  I  heard  the  Emperor  say,  'See  that 


THE  EMPEROR  AT  BAY        131 

he  gets  the  Legion  of  Honor  if  he  survives.'  Peo 
ple  caught  me  in  their  arms.  When  I  woke  up  I 
was  in  France.  Here,  at  Aumenier,  in  my  father's 
house." 

Young  Marteau  did  not  add  to  his  story  that, 
as  he  fell,  he  heard  the  Emperor,  deeply  moved,  ex 
claim  : 

"With  such  men  what  resources  does  not  France 
possess?" 

"And  did  the  Emperor  give  you  the  cross?" 
eagerly  asked  the  girl. 

"It  was  forgot  until  a  few  days  since.  When  I 
recovered  I  rejoined  the  regiment.  To  take  the 
duty  of  an  officer  suddenly  ill  I  happened  to  be  sta 
tioned  on  service  near  the  Emperor  at  Nogent. 
When  others  were  urging  him  to  make  terms,  I, 
though  a  young  soldier,  ventured  to  express  myself 
to  the  contrary." 

"And  then?" 

"His  Majesty  pardoned  the  liberty,  recognized 
me,  gave  me  his  own  cross,  made  me  a  Major  on 
his  staff." 

"And  the  Eagle?" 

"It  is  still  carried  at  the  head  of  what  remains 
of  the  Fifth-of-the-Line,"  said  the  young  man 
proudly. 

"When  we  have  taken  your  Emperor  we  will  do 
away  with  those  Eagles,  and  after  we  restore  her 
rightful  king  to  France  we  shall  give  her  back  her 
ancient  flag  of  golden  lilies,"  said  the  Russian. 

"Precisely,"  said  Marteau  sharply.  "When  you 
have  taken  the  Emperor  you  may  do  all  that.  The 


132    THE  EAGLE  OF  THE  EMPIRE 

men  who  have  made  France  so  great  under  him  will 
care  little  what  you  do,  monsieur,  under  such  cir 
cumstances." 

"And  why  will  they  be  so  indifferent,  Monsieur 
Jean?"  asked  the  Countess  curiously. 

"They  will  be  dead,  mademoiselle,  and  their  Em 
peror,  too,  unless  God  preserve  his  life  for  some 
future  use." 

"Happy,"  said  the  young  girl,  "is  the  man  who  can 
inspire  such  devotion,  monsieur.  Although  I  have 
been  trained  differently  I  think  that " 

What  the  Countess  thought  was  never  said  for  at 
that  instant  the  door  at  the  farther  end  of  the 
great  room  was  thrown  open  suddenly  with  a  vio 
lent  crash,  and  into  the  apartment  came  crowding 
the  score  of  villains  and  scoundrels  who  had  been 
imprisoned  below  stairs.  They  had  managed  to 
break  out  in  some  way  and  had  returned  to  the 
great  hall  to  seize  again  their  captives  and  to  wreak 
their  vengeance  upon  their  betrayer.  They  had  got 
at  the  wine  and  were  inflamed  with  drink  as  well 
as  revenge  and  savage  passion.  They  had  realized, 
of  course,  that  some  enemies  were  outside  but  they 
had  not  clearly  grasped  the  situation.  All  they 
thought  of  at  the  time  were  the  people  in  the  great 
hall.  They  came  crowding  through  the  big  door 
way,  several  of  them  handling  pistols  and  all  of 
them  shouting  savage  and  fearsome  cries  of  revenge 
and  triumph. 

Instantly  the  pistols  were  presented,  the  triggers 
pressed  and  half  a  dozen  bullets  swept  through 
the  room,  Marteau  had  seen  the  first  movement 


THE  EMPEROR  AT  BAY        133 

of  the  door.  He  had  divined  what  had  happened. 
Before  the  pistols  had  been  leveled  he  was  by  the 
side  of  the  Countess.  The  table  at  which  she  sat 
was  a  huge  and  heavy  one.  With  one  movement  he 
hurled  her,  chair  and  all,'  to  the  floor,  with  the 
other  he  threw  the  table  on  its  side  in  front  of 
her.  One  of  the  bullets  grazed  his  cheek,  the  others 
swept  harmlessly  through  the  room.  He  seizted 
from  another  table  two  of  his  remaining  pistols  and 
discharged  them  squarely  into  the  face  of  the  crowd 
ing  mass  at  the  other  end  of  the  room  at  point- 
blank  range.  The  sounds  of  the  shots  still  echoed 
when  he  cried  out: 

"The  knife,  Countess.  Cut  the  bonds  of  the 
prisoners.  We  must  fight  here  for  our  lives  and 
your  honor." 

The  Countess  Laure  was  quick  to  understand. 

"You  are  safe  now.  They  have  no  more  shots. 
Hasten,"  he  urged,  reaching  down  a  hand  and  as 
sisting  her  to  her  feet. 

He  clutched  the  barrels  of  his  pistols  thereafter 
and  hurled  them  directly  into  the  faces  of  the  in 
furiated  men.  Five  of  them  were  down  and  his 
prompt  action  had  given  the  people  in  the  room  a 
little  respite. 

"Gentlemen,"  cried  Marteau,  sweeping  out  his 
sword  and  stepping  into  the  open  space  between 
the  prisoners  and  the  overturned  table  on  one  hand 
and  the  renegades  on  the  other,  "quick,  take  your 
swords  for  the  honor  of  the  Countess  and  for  your 
lives." 

The  man  who  led  the  renegades  had  some  idea 


134    THE  EAGLE  OF  THE  EMPIRE 

of  military  tactics.  He  spoke  a  few  sharp  words 
and  half  a  dozen  of  them  backed  out  of  the  room, 
entered  the  outer  hall  and  ran  around  to  the  door 
on  the  side  of  the  apartment  which  gave  access  to 
the  great  hall.  The  little  band  of  defenders  retreated 
into  a  corner  near  the  fireplace,  which  was  raised  a 
step  or  two  above  the  floor  of  the  room. 

Meanwhile  Laure  had  cut  the  lashings  of  the  Rus 
sians,  the  Cossacks,  and  the  Englishman.  They  stag 
gered  to  their  feet  numb  from  their  long  bondage, 
but  inspired  by  the  frightful  imminence  of  their 
peril  they  seized  their  swords  and  presented  a  bold 
front  to  the  two-sided  enemy.  There  was  one  pis 
tol  left  charged.  Marteau  handed  that  to  the  girl. 

"The  last  shot,  mademoiselle,"  he  said  meaningly, 
"for  yourself  if " 

"I  understand." 

"If  you  could  only  get  to  the  door,"  growled  the 
Russian  commander,  "my  men  outside  would  make 
short  work  of " 

"It  is  impossible  until  we  have  dealt  with  these 
villains,"  said  Marteau.  "On  guard!"  he  cried 
as  the  marauders  suddenly  leaped  forward. 

The  big  Englishman,  burly,  tremendously  power 
ful  for  all  his  advancing  years,  dropped  his  sword 
for  a  moment,  picked  up  one  of  the  heavy  oak 
chairs  and  hurled  it  full  into  the  face  of  the  larger 
body  at  the  further  end  of  the  room.  One  stum 
bled  over  it,  two  others  fell.  The  next  moment  both 
parties  were  upon  the  little  group.  In  their  haste, 
in  their  drunken  excitement,  the  marauders  had  not 
thought  to  recharge  their  pistols.  With  swords, 


THE  EMPEROR  AT  BAY        135 

scythes  and  clubs  they  fell  on  the  six  men.  Their 
numbers  worked  to  their  disadvantage.  Three  of 
the  men  surrounding  the  woman,  the  Frenchman 
and  the  two  Russian  guardsmen,  were  accomplished 
swordsmen.  The  Cossacks  were  not  to  be  disdained 
in  rough-and-tumble  fighting  and  the  Englishman 
was  a  valiant  ally.  Their  racial  antagonisms  were 
forgot  in  their  common  danger  and  the  deadly  peril 
of  the  woman. 

The  swords  of  the  soldiers  flashed  as  they  thrust 
and  parried.  The  Cossacks,  less  skillful,  strove  to 
beat  down  the  attackers  by  sweeping  slashes — not 
the  best  method  for  such  close  fighting.  One  Cos 
sack  was  pierced  through  the  breast  by  a  thrust 
from  a  renegade  and  another  was  cut  from  his  neck 
almost  to  his  heart  by  a  blow  from  a  scythe.  One 
of  the  Russian  officers  was  wounded,  fell  to  his 
knees  and  was  dispatched.  The  Englishman  was 
hit  by  a  billet  of  wood  and  dazed.  Marteau  and  the 
other  Russian  were  still  unharmed.  But  it  was 
going  hard  with  them.  In  fact,  a  fierce  blow  on  his 
blade  from  a  bludgeon  shivered  the  weapon  of  the 
Frenchman.  A  sword  was  aimed  at  his  heart.  There 
was  a  blinding  flash,  a  detonation,  and  the  man  who 
held  it  staggered  back.  The  Countess,  the  last  pistol 
almost  touching  the  man's  body,  had  pulled  the 
trigger.  Marteau  seized  the  sword  of  the  man  who 
had  menaced  him.  The  next  instant  the  chateau 
was  shaken  by  a  terrific  roar.  The  Russians  out 
side  having  constructed  a  rude  bomb  had  blown  up 
the  door. 

For  a  second  the  combat  ceased.    The  hall  was 


136    THE  EAGLE  OF  THE  EMPIRE 

full  of  smoke.  From  outside  came  shots,  shrieks, 
cries,  loud  curses  and  groans,  cheers,  French  and 
Russian  voices,  the  galloping  of  horses,  words  of 
command.  The  French  were  there. 

"To  me,"  shouted  Marteau  at  the  top  of  his  voice. 
"France!" 

The  first  to  heed  the  call  was  young  Pierre.  He 
descended  the  hall,  watched  the  conflict  a  moment 
and,  having  possessed  himself  of  a  club,  battered 
down  the  man  nearest  him,  unsuspecting  an  attack 
from  the  rear,  then  ranged  himself  by  the  side  of 
the  surviving  Russian  and  the  Frenchman.  He  did 
not  come  through  scathless,  however,  for  one  of 
the  renegades  cut  him  fiercely  as  he  passed.  He 
stood  erect  by  an  effort  of  will  but  it  was  evident 
he  could  now  add  little  to  the  defense.  The  Russian 
took  the  pistol  from  his  hand.  The  next  second 
the  great  hall  was  filled  with  shouting  figures  of 
soldiers.  Into  the  smoke  and  confusion  of  the  room 
came  Napoleon. 


CHAPTER  XI 

AN  EMPEROR  AND  A  GENTLEMAN 

"THE  Emperor!"  cried  Marteau. 

The  Russian  officer  recognized  Napoleon  as 
quickly  as  the  other.  The  Emperor  advanced,  the 
soldiers  crowding  after  threw  themselves  upon  the 
renegades  immediately,  while  the  Emperor  strode 
forward  alone.  The  young  Russian  noble  was  a 
quicker  witted  man  than  his  countrymen  ordinarily 
were.  He  saw  a  chance  to  end  everything  then  and 
there,  to  do  his  country  a  great  service,  although  his 
life  would  be  forfeited  instantly  in  the  doing  of  it. 

"My  chance,"  he  shouted,  raising  Pierre's  pistol. 

The  shot  was  an  easy  one.  It  was  impossible  to 
miss.  Marteau  had  stepped  forward.  The  thrill  in 
the  tones  of  the  man's  voice  attracted  his  attention. 
One  glance  and  he  saw  all.  He  threw  himself  in 
front  of  the  Emperor  just  as  the  Russian  pressed 
the  trigger.  At  the  same  moment  the  Countess 
Laure,  who  stood  nearest  him,  struck  up  the  Rus 
sian's  arm.  The  bullet  buried  itself  in  the  ceiling 
above. 

"Thank  God!"  cried  Marteau  as  the  sound  died 
away  and  he  saw  the  Emperor  standing  unharmed. 

Napoleon's  keen  eye  had  seen  everything. 

"It  is  this  lady,"  said  he  gracefully,  "to  whom 
137 


138    THE  EAGLE  OF  THE  EMPIRE 

my  safety  is  due.  And  I  am  not  unmindful  that 
you  interposed  your  own  body  between  the  bullet 
and  your  Emperor." 

"Your  Majesty,"  cried  Marteau,  now  that  his 
Emperor  was  safe,  fain  to  discharge  his  duty,  "I 
have  tidings  of  the  utmost  importance.  I  have  held 
this  chateau  and  detained  this  convoy  the  Russians 
had  captured.  It  contains  powder,  food,  guns " 

"I  know,"  said  the  Emperor.  "It  comes  in  the 
nick  of  time." 

"And  I  have  to  report,  Sire,  that  the  corps  of 
Wittgenstein,  Wrede  and  of  the  Field-Marshal 
Bliicher,  himself,  are  strung  out  at  long  intervals 
to  the  eastward  of  Champaubert.  They  have  no 
idea  of  your  proximity." 

"Are  the  divisions  in  supporting  distance  of  one 
another?" 

"No,  Sire.  Olsuvieff's  division  lies  isolated  at 
Champaubert.  As  to  the  divisions  of  Sacken  and 
Yorck  I  think " 

"I  have  already  received  information  concerning 
them,"  said  the  Emperor,  "from  your  friend,  Bullet- 
Stopper.  He  should  be  here." 

"I  am  here,  your  Majesty,"  roared  the  grenadier, 
stepping  forward,  "and  saving  your  Imperial  Pres 
ence  I  am  glad  to  see  the  lad.  It  was  I,"  continued 
the  grenadier,  addressing  Marteau  and  presuming 
on  the  familiarity  with  which  Napoleon  sometimes 
treated  his  men,  "that  fired  the  shot  that  brought 
the  man  down  from  the  window." 

"And  that  shot  saved  us,"  said  young  Marteau. 
"This  young  peasant  here "  he  bent  over  Pierre 


THE    LITTLE    COUNTESS   SAVES  THE    EMPEHOR. 


THE  EMPEROR  AT  BAY        139 

— "he  is  not  dead,  Sire,  but  sorely  wounded — he  kept 
them  out  up  there  while  we  held  the  room  here." 

"But  these?"  asked  Napoleon,  looking  at  the 
prisoners. 

"Renegades  who  had  taken  advantage  of  the  ab 
sence  of  the  Russians  pursuing  the  escort  to  the 
wagon-train  to  seize  the  castle." 

"Why  did  you  not  impress  them  for  the  defense 
thereof?"  asked  the  Emperor.  "They  were  French 
undoubtedly " 

"I  found  them  fighting  against  us." 

Rapidly  and  in  few  words  Marteau  told  the  story 
of  the  night,  touching  lightly  upon  his  own  part, 
but  the  Emperor  was  soldier  enough  to  read  be 
tween  the  words  of  the  narration  and  reconstruct  the 
scene  instantly.  He  turned  to  one  of  his  officers. 

"Take  those  scoundrels  out.  Put  them  up  against 
the  wall  and  shoot  them  out  of  hand.  They  dis 
grace  the  name  of  France.  Bid  the  surgeons  of  the 
command  come  here  to  look  to  the  wounded." 

"They  are  past  hope,  except  the  French  boy,  your 
Majesty,"  said  Yeovil,  who  having  recovered  his 
own  consciousness  speedily  had  been  examining 
them  meanwhile.  "I  have  some  skill  in  wounds. 
One  Cossack  is  already  dead.  It  would  be  a  mercy 
to  put  that  other  out  of  his  misery  with  that  horrible 
scythe  slash." 

"The  Russian  officer?" 

"Gone,  too." 

"And  who  are  you?" 

"I  am  a  barrister,"  answered  the  Englishman  in 
bad  but  comprehensible  French. 


140    THE  EAGLE  OF  THE  EMPIRE 

"A  man  of  the  law.  You  look  it  not,"  said  the 
Emperor,  smiling  faintly. 

"Necessity  makes  us  all  resort  to  the  sword,"  said 
Sir  Gervaise,  looking  at  his  bloody  blade,  for  he  had 
fought  valiantly  with  the  rest  and  would  have  been 
killed  but  he  had  been  knocked  senseless  with  that 
billet  of  wood  which  had  hit  him  on  the  head  and 
felled  him  to  the  floor. 

"You  are,  by  your  language,  an  Englishman." 

"I  am,  and  proud  of  it." 

"The  English,"  said  Napoleon  slowly,  "have  been 
my  bitterest  enemies." 

"Pardon,  Sire,"  said  the  Russian  bluntly,  "we  chil 
dren  of  the  white  Czar  will  dispute  that  honor  with 
them." 

"And  you  sought  to  kill  me?"  said  the  Emperor, 
turning  upon  the  other.  "You  are  a  brave  man," 
he  added. 

"And  I  would  have  done  so  but  for " 

"Bah!"  interrupted  Napoleon  contemptuously. 
"The  bullet  is  not  molded  that  is  destined  for  me. 
My  career  is  not  to  be  cut  short  by  the  hand  of 
any  young  boy  who  wears  the  uniform  of  the  Rus 
sian  guard.  Silence,  monsieur!  Take  him  prisoner. 
See  that  he  be  kept  under  close  guard.  When  we 
have  taken  Olsuvieff's  division  to-morrow  and  then 
Sacken's  there  will  be  many  of  his  comrades  to  bear 
him  company  to  Paris.  Did  any  of  the  men  out 
side  escape?" 

"No,  Sire,"  answered  General  Maurice,  entering 
the  room  just  in  time  to  hear  the  question.  "The 
wood  around  the  chateau  was  completely  filled  with 


THE  EMPEROR  AT  BAY        141 

my  men.  Those  we  have  not  killed  here  we  have 
taken  prisoner.  Most  of  them  were  shot  down  as 
they  strove  to  break  through." 

"That  is  well/'  said  the  Emperor. 

"And  the  convoy?"  asked  General  Maurice. 

"Detach  a  regiment  to  escort  it  back  to  Sezanne. 
Let  it  be  distributed  to  the  regiments  and  divisions 
as  they  arrive." 

"And  those  who  have  gone  on  ahead?" 

"Their  arms,  equipment  and  provisions  are  in  the 
hands  of  the  Prussians.  We  shall  march  immedi 
ately.  As  for  you,  mademoiselle,  what  is  your 
name?" 

"I  am  the  Comtesse  Laure  d'Aumenier." 

"H'm,  the  daughter  of  the  Comte  Robert  d'Aume 
nier,  who  made  his  submission  to  the  Empire  and 
received  back  his  estates,  I  believe?" 

"The  same,  Sire." 

"Where  is  he?" 

"Dead,  Sire,  these  two  years." 

"And  you?" 

"I  went  to  my  uncle  in  England." 

"To  the  enemy!"  exclaimed  Napoleon  sharply. 

"To  the  enemy,"  answered  the  Countess,  looking 
at  him  courageously. 

"And  you  came  back  for  what  purpose?" 

"The  estates  are  to  be  sold.  There  were  certain 
papers  of  which  I  alone  knew  the  hiding  place. 
There  was  no  way  for  me  to  reach  them  save  by 
the  courtesy  of  the  Czar  Alexander.  He  sent  me 
to  Field-Marshal  Blucher  with  instructions  to  pro- 


142    THE  EAGLE  OF  THE  EMPIRE 

vide  me  with  an  escort  to  this  chateau.  The  Field- 
Marshal  did  so,  and  the  rest  you  know." 

"And  you  propose  to  sell  estates  that  have  been 
in  the  hands  of  the  family  for  so  long  a  period?  It 
seems  to  me  that  I  visited  them  once  when  I  was 
a  military  student  at  Brienne.  Was  not  your  uncle 
there  at  the  time,  an  officer  in  command?" 

"I  have  heard  him  say  so." 

"I  remember  him  very  well  now." 

"And  he  you,  your  Majesty." 

"And  he  intends  now  to  sell  the  estates?" 

"He  did,  Sire,  but  now  that  there  is  a  possibility 
of  the  re— of  the— 

"The  return  of  the  Bourbons,"  said  Napoleon, 
divining  her  thought  as  the  Countess  paused  in  con 
fusion.  "There  is  no  possibility  of  that,  mademoi 
selle.  In  three  weeks  the  armies  opposing  me  will 
have  been  hurled  back  beyond  the  frontier.  Your 
family  has  forfeited  its  rights  to  any  consideration 
at  my  hands.  Your  uncle  is  an  emigre  who  has 
never  made  his  submission.  I  find  you,  a  French 
woman,  in  the  company  of  my  enemies.  Your  es 
tates  are  forfeited.  Major  Marteau,  I  make  you 
Comte  d'Aumenier.  The  domains  are  yours." 

"I  accept  them,  your  Majesty." 

"What!  Is  it  possible "  cried  the  Countess 

Laure,  her  face  flaming. 

"Silence,  mademoiselle.  By  the  laws  of  war  I 
could  have  you  shot.  It  would  be  a  fine  example. 
No  Frenchman,  however  high  in  rank  and  station, 
no  Frenchwoman,  however  young  or  beautiful,  can 
fight  against  me  and  France  with  impunity.  Have 


THE  EMPEROR  AT  BAY        143 

you  anything  to  say  why  I  should  not  mete  out  to 
you  this  well-deserved  punishment?" 

"Nothing,"  said  the  young  woman  with  proud 
disdain.  "The  revolution  has  taken  the  lives  of 
many  of  my  people.  I  am  not  better  than  they. 
You  are  the  very  spirit  of  the  revolution  incarnate, 
Sire,  and " 

"Your  Majesty,"  interposed  General  Maurice. 

"Well,  sir?"  said  Napoleon. 

General  Maurice,  a  famous  light  horseman,  other 
wise  known  as  the  Count  de  Vivonne,  was  an  old 
friend  and  a  devoted  follower  of  the  Emperor.  He 
had  interfered  before  on  occasion  between  Napoleon 
and  his  victims.  He  knew  the  Emperor  thoroughly 
and  loved  him.  He  realized  that  it  was  his  time 
to  interpose,  or  someone's,  and  he  had  intuition 
enough  to  suspect  that  his  interposition  would  be 
most  welcome,  that  indeed  Napoleon  was  playing, 
as  he  sometimes  loved  to  do,  a  little  comedy.  With 
a  wave  of  his  hand  the  general  checked  Marteau, 
whom  he  knew  slightly,  who  had  sprung  forward 
to  protest  to  the  Emperor  at  the  words  of  the  woman 
he  loved. 

"Allow  me  a  word,  Sire,"  asked  the  General  with 
that  exquisite  mixture  of  courtesy,  deference  and 
resolution  which  characterized  his  intercourse  with 
the  Emperor. 

"I  am  always  glad  to  hear  from  you,  my  good 
Maurice,"  said  the  Emperor  familiarly.  "What  have 
you  to  say?" 

"This  young  woman  is  no  traitor  to  you  or  to 
France,  Sire,  however  strange  her  position." 


144    THE  EAGLE  OF  THE  EMPIRE 

"How  do  you  make  that  out?"  asked  the  Em 
peror,  the  flickering  of  a  smile  playing  about  his 
lips. 

"It  was  her  hand  that  struck  up  the  Russian's 
pistol  so  that  the  bullet  went  there,"  the  General 
of  cavalry  pointed  upward  a  moment  and  then  his 
hand  fell  until  his  index  finger  was  trained  upon 
the  Emperor's  heart,  "instead  of  there,"  he  added 
meaningly. 

"Very  good,"  said  the  Emperor  graciously.  "But 
had  she  not  struck  up  that  hand  it  was  in  Marteau's 
heart  that  the  bullet  would  have  lodged,  not  in  mine, 
if  I  remember  rightly." 

"And  if  that  gives  me  a  claim,  Sire,  to  your  con 
sideration " 

"Have  I  not  rewarded  you  enough,"  asked  the 
Emperor,  "in  adding  the  official  stamp  of  a  patent 
to  the  nobility  of  heart  which  is  already  yours  and 
by  giving  you  the  forfeited  lands  of  Aumenier  to 
boot?" 

"And  I  would  give  them  all  for  the  safety  of 
the  lady  yonder,  whose  family  mine  have  served  for 
eight  hundred  years,  with  whom  I  played  when  a 
boy,  and  be  content  to  follow  your  Majesty  as  the 
simple  soldier  I  have  always  been." 

"Brave  heart  and  true,"  said  the  Emperor, 
touched.  "Mademoiselle,  you  cannot  go  back  to 
Bliicher.  Within  two  days  his  army  will  be  no  more. 
I  will  give  you  a  safe  conduct.  You  can  remain 
here  for  the  night.  Couriers  will  be  dispatched  to 
Troyes  and  to  Paris  under  escort  in  the  morning. 


THE  EMPEROR  AT  BAY        145 

They  will  take  you  there.  You  have  friends  there, 
I  presume?" 

"Many." 

"You  can  remain  there  or,  if  opportunity  arises, 
I  will  give  orders  to  have  you  safely  conducted  so 
you  can  go  back  to  England." 

"And  me,  Sire?"  growled  out  Sir  Gervaise  Yeovil. 

The  Emperor  laughed. 

"I  am  too  good  a  soldier  to  fight  with  men  of 
the  law,"  he  said.  "You  may  go  with  your  protegee 
and  share  her  fortunes." 

"I  thank  your  Majesty,"  said  the  Englishman, 
touched  in  his  blunt  nature  by  this  extraordinary 
magnanimity.  "I  will  report  your  consideration  to 
my  king  and  his  people  and " 

"And  say  to  them  that  I  long  for  the  moment 
when  I  can  measure  swords  with  the  Duke  of 
Wellington." 

"And  may  that  moment  come  speedily,"  returned 
Sir  Gervaise. 

"As  for  the  rest,"  said  the  Emperor,  turning  away 
in  high  good  humor,  "Marteau,  you  have  been  con 
tinuously  on  service  for  two  days  and  two  nights 
and  you  are  wounded " 

"It  is  nothing." 

"Remain  here  with  old  Bullet-Stopper,  who,  true 
to  his  name,  has  had  another  touch  of  the  enemy's 
lead.  General  Maurice,  detail  a  score  of  the  weak 
est  of  your  command,  those  slightly  wounded,  to 
whom  a  night's  rest  would  be  useful.  They  shall 
remain  here  until  the  courier  stops  for  the  lady  and 


146    THE  EAGLE  OF  THE  EMPIRE 

her  English  friend,  and  then  under  Marteau's  com 
mand  rejoin  me  in  the  morning." 

"Very  good,  Sire,"  said  General  Maurice,  turning 
away. 

"I  thank  your  Majesty,"  said  Marteau,  "for  all 
you  have  done  for  me,  and  for  the  Comtesse  d'Aume- 
nier." 

"And  I  thank  the  Emperor  also,"  said  the  young 
woman,  smiling  at  him.  "Your  Majesty's  generosity 
almost  wins  me  to  an  imperial  allegiance." 

Napoleon  laughed. 

"Not  even  the  Emperor,"  he  said  proudly,  "is  as 
black  as  he  is  painted  by  traitors  and  the  English, 
Mademoiselle ! "  he  bowed  abruptly  but  not  ungrace 
fully.  "Come,  gentlemen,"  he  said,  turning  on  his 
heel,  "we  must  march." 


CHAPTER  XII 

AN  ALLIANCE  DECLINED 

As  the  Emperor  left  the  room,  followed  by  the 
officers  and  men,  a  little  silence  fell  over  the  three 
people  remaining  therein. 

"Monsieur  le  Comte  d'Aumenier!"  exclaimed  the 
Countess  Laure,  wonder,  derision  and  disdain  in  her 
voice.  "Your  chateau,  your  domain!" 

She  looked  about  the  great  hall  and  laughed 
scornfully.  Young  Marteau  turned  crimson.  He 
threw  up  his  head  proudly. 

"Mademoiselle "  he  began  sternly,  his  voice 

full  of  indignant  protest  and  resentment. 

"Don't  be  too  hard  on  the  lad,  Countess,"  inter 
posed  the  Englishman,  his  interest  aroused.  "By 
gad,  he  saved  your  honor,  your  life,  and " 

"And,  if  I  mistake  not,  I  repaid  the  obligation  by 
saving  his  life  also,  sir." 

"And  I  recognize  it,  and  am  grateful,  mademoi 
selle." 

"I  am  ordered  to  report  to  you,  sir,"  said  a  young 
man,  coming  into  the  room  followed  by  a  file  of 
dismounted  soldiers,  and  relieving  a  situation  grow 
ing  most  tense. 

"Very  good,"  said  Marteau,  devoutly  thankful  for 
the  interruption.  "You  will  dispose  your  men  so  as 

147 


148    THE  EAGLE  OF  THE  EMPIRE 

to  guard  the  approaches  of  the  chateau  at  every 
hand.  You  will  keep  a  strict  lookout,  and  you  will 
awaken  me  at  dawn.  I  think  there  is  nothing  to 
be  apprehended  from  the  enemy.  The  advance  of 
the  Emperor  will  have  cleared  all  this  section  of 
even  wandering  troops  of  Cossacks  by  this  time,  but 
there  are  masterless  men  abroad." 

"I  shall  know  how  to  deal  with  them,"  said  the 
young  officer,  saluting. 

"You  will  also  send  men  to  remove  these  dead 
bodies  and  clear  up  this  room.  Take  this  poor  lad" 
— pointing  to  Pierre — "and  see  that  he  is  cared  for. 
You  will  find  a  place  for  him  upstairs.  Your  regi 
mental  surgeon " 

"Is  attending  to  the  wounded.  I  will  see  that  the 
boy  gets  every  care,  sir." 

"And  Bal-Arret?" 

"His  arm  is  dressed,  and  he  is  the  admiration  of 
the  camp-fire." 

"I  suppose  so." 

"Any  other  orders,  Major?" 

"None;  you  may  go." 

"Mademoiselle,"  said  Marteau,  facing  the  Count 
ess  as  the  officer  turned  away,  his  men  taking  the 
dead  bodies  and  the  wounded  peasant  with  them, 
"you  wrong  me  terribly." 

"By  saving  your  life,  pray?"  she  asked  contemp 
tuously. 

"By — by — your — — "  he  faltered  and  stopped. 

"In  what  way,  Monsieur  le  Comte?"  interrupted 
the  young  woman,  who  knew  very  well  what  the 
young  man  meant. 


THE  EMPEROR  AT  BAY        149 

In  her  irritating  use  of  his  new-found  title,  and  in 
the  way  in  which  it  fell  from  her  lips,  she  cut  him 
like  a  whip-lash,  and  she  did  it  deliberately,  too — he, 
the  Count,  forsooth! 

"Call  me  Marteau,"  he  protested,  stepping  toward 
her,  at  which  she  fell  back  a  little.  "Or,  better  still, 
as  when  I  was  a  boy,  your  faithful  follower,  Jean." 

"If  the  Emperor  has  the  power,  he  has  made  you 
a  Count;  if  he  has  not,  you  are  not." 

"What  the  Emperor  makes  me  is  of  little  conse 
quence  between  us,  mademoiselle.  It  is  what  I  am 
that  counts." 

"And  you  remain,  then,  just  Jean  Marteau,  of  the 
loyal  Marteaux?" 

"One  does  not  wipe  out  the  devotion  of  years  in  a 
moment.  My  father  served  yours,  your  grandfather, 
your  uncle,  your  father.  I  am  still" — he  threw  up 
his  head  proudly  as  he  made  the  confession- — "your 


man." 


"But  the  title " 

"What  is  a  title?  Your  uncle  is  in  England.  He 
does  not  purpose  to  come  back  to  France  unless  he 
whom  he  calls  his  rightful  king  again  rules  the  land. 
Should  that  come  to  be,  my  poor  patent  of  nobility 
would  not  be  worth  the  parchment  upon  which  it 
was  engrossed." 

"And  the  lands?" 

"In  any  case  I  would  but  hold  them  in  trust  for 
the  Marquis " 

"My  uncle  is  old,  childless.  I  am  the  last  of  the 
long  line." 

"Then  I  will  hold  them  for  you,  mademoiselle. 


150    THE  EAGLE  OF  THE  EMPIRE 

They  are  yours.  When  this  war  is  over,  and  France 
is  at  peace  once  more,  I  will  take  my  father's  place 
and  keep  them  for  you." 

"I  could  not  accept  such  a  sacrifice." 

"It  would  be  no  sacrifice." 

"I  repeat,  I  cannot  consent  to  be  under  such  obli 
gation,  even  to  you." 

"There  is  a  way "  began  the  young  French 
man  softly,  shooting  a  meaning  glance  at  the  young 
woman. 

"I  do  not  understand,"  she  faltered. 

"I  am  peasant  born,"  admitted  Marteau,  "but, 
though  no  gentle  blood  flows  through  my  veins,  my 
family,  I  think,  is  as  old  as  your  own." 

"It  is  so,"  agreed  the  Countess,  trembling  as  she 
began  to  catch  the  meaning.  "Oh,  monsieur,  stop." 

"As  there  has  never  a  d'Aumenier  failed  to  hold 
the  chateau  so  there  has  never  failed  a  Marteau  to 
follow  him,"  went  on  the  young  man,  unheeding 
her  protest. 

"I  care  as  little  for  distinctions  of  rank  as  any 
demoiselle  of  old  France,  perhaps,  but " 

"Mademoiselle  is  right.  As  for  myself,  I  am  a 
republican  at  heart,  although  I  follow  the  Emperor. 
I,  too,  care  little  for  the  distinctions  of  rank,  for 
titles,  yet  I  have  earned  a  title  in  the  service  of  the 
Emperor.  Through  him,  even  humble  men  rise 
high  and  go  far.  Will  you " 

"Monsieur,  you  must  not  go  on!"  cried  the  girl, 
thrusting  out  her  hand,  as  if  to  check  him. 

"Pardon,"  said  the  young  Frenchman  resolutely. 
"Having  gone  thus  far  I  must  go  further.  Humble 


THE  EMPEROR  AT  BAY        151 

as  I  am,  obscure  though  I  be,  I  have  dared  to  raise 
my  eyes  to  heaven — to  you,  mademoiselle.  In  my 
boyhood  days  you  honored  me  with  your  friendship, 
your  companionship.  I  have  made  something  of 

myself.  If  mademoiselle  would  only  deign  to 

It  is  impossible  that  she  should  love  me — it  would 
be  an  ineffable  condescension — but  is  there  not  some 
merit  in  the  thought  that  the  last  survivors  of  the 
two  lines  should  unite  to ' 

"Impossible!"  cried  the  Countess,  her  face  flush 
ing.  "My  uncle  would  never  consent.  In  my  veins 
is  the  oldest,  the  noblest  blood  of  France.  Even  I 
could  not " 

"Be  it  so,"  said  Marteau,  paling,  but  standing 
very  erect.  "It  is,  of  course,  impossible.  There  is 
not  honor  enough  or  merit  enough  in  the  world,"  he 
went  on  bitterly,  "to  obliterate  the  difference  in  sta 
tion  between  us.  The  revolution,  after  all,  changed 
little.  Keep  the  title,  keep  the  estates,  mademoi 
selle,  I  want  them  not,"  continued  the  young  soldier 
bitterly.  "Having  aspired  to  you,  do  you  think  these 
are  compensations?" 

"You  saved  my  life,"  said  the  girl  falteringly. 

"It  was  nothing.    You  did  as  much  for  me." 

"And  my  honor,"  she  added. 

"I  ask  no  reward." 

"By  gad!"  said  Yeovil  at  this  juncture,  "I'm 
damned  if  I  see  how  you  can  withstand  him.  He  is 
a  gallant  lad.  He  has  fought  bravely  and  he  has 
pleaded  nobly.  You  may  not  win  the  Countess — as 
a  matter  of  fact  she  is  pledged  to  my  son — but  you 
deserve  her.  I've  never  been  able  to  understand  any 


152    THE  EAGLE  OF  THE  EMPIRE 

kind  of  women,  much  less  Frenchwomen,  saving  your 
presence,  mademoiselle.  Base-born  you  may  be, 
Major  Marteau,  but  I  know  a  gentleman  when  I  see 
him,  I  flatter  myself,  and,  damme,  young  man,  here's 
my  hand.  I  can  understand  your  Emperor  better 
since  he  can  inspire  the  devotion  of  men  like  you." 

The  two  men  clasped  hands.  The  Countess  looked 
on.  She  stepped  softly  nearer  to  them.  She  laid 
her  hand  on  Marteau's  shoulder. 

"Monsieur — Jean,"  she  said,  and  there  was  a  long 
pause  between  the  two  words,  "I  would  that  I  could 
grant  your  request,  but  it  is — you  see — you  know 
I  cannot.  I  am  betrothed  to  Captain  Yeovil,  with 
my  uncle's  consent,  of  course.  I  am  a  very  unhappy 
woman,"  she  ended,  although  just  what  she  meant 
by  that  last  sentence  she  hardly  knew. 

"And  this  Captain  Yeovil,  he  is  a  soldier?"  asked 
Marteau. 

"Under  Wellington,"  answered  the  father. 

"Now  may  God  grant  that  I  may  meet  him!" 

"You'll  find  him  a  gallant  officer,"  answered  the 
sturdy  old  Englishman  proudly. 

"When  I  think  of  his  father  I  know  that  to  be 
true,"  was  the  polite  rejoinder. 

The  little  Countess  sank  down  on  the  chair,  buried 
her  face  in  her  hands  and  burst  into  tears. 

"Well,  of  all  the "  began  the  Englishman,  but 

the  Frenchman  checked  him. 

"Mademoiselle,"  he  said  softly,  "were  every  tear 
a  diamond  they  could  not  make  for  me  so  precious 
a  diadem  as  they  do  when  I  think  that  you  weep 


THE  EMPEROR  AT  BAY        153 

for  me.    I  wish  you  joy  with  your  English  captain. 
I  am  your  humble  servant  ever." 

And  Laure  d'Aumenier  felt  very  much  comforted 
by  those  words.  It  was  absurd,  inconceivable,  im 
possible,  of  course,  and  yet  no  handsomer,  braver, 
truer,  more  considerate  gentleman  had  ever  crossed 
her  horizon  than  this  descendant  of  an  ancient  line 
of  self-respecting,  honorable  yeomen.  She  con 
trasted  him  with  Captain  Yeovil,  and  the  contrast 
was  not  to  Marteau's  disadvantage!  No,  decidedly 
not! 


CHAPTER  XIII 

THE   THUNDERBOLT    STROKE 

ON  the  tenth  of  February,  1814,  for  the  first  time 
in  many  days,  the  sun  shone  brightly.  Nevertheless 
there  was  little  change  in  the  temperature ;  the  thaw 
still  prevailed.  The  sun's  heat  was  not  great 
enough  to  dry  the  roads,  nor  was  the  weather  suffi 
ciently  cold  to  freeze  them.  As  the  Emperor  wrote 
to  his  brother,  with  scarcely  any  exaggeration,  there 
was  still  six  feet  of  mud  on  highways  and  by-paths. 

Napoleon,  by  rapid  marching  at  the  head  of  Mau 
rice's  Squadrons  d'Elite,  mounted  grenadiers,  chas 
seurs,  hussars  and  dragoons,  had  easily  attained  a 
position  in  front  of  the  van  of  the  army  commanded 
by  Marmont,  which  had  rested  a  few  hours  at  St. 
Prix,  where  the  road  crossed  the  Petit  Morin  on  a 
bridge.  His  requisition  on  the  peasantry  had  been 
honored,  and  great  numbers  of  fresh,  vigorous  draft 
horses  had  been  brought  in  from  all  sides.  There 
was  not  much  speed  to  be  got  out  of  these  farm 
animals,  to  be  sure,  but  they  were  of  prodigious 
strength.  The  ordinary  gun  teams  were  relieved, 
and  numbers  of  these  plow-horses  attached  to  the 
limbers  pulled  the  precious  artillery  steadily  toward 
the  enemy. 

Scouts  had  discovered  the  fact  that  Olsuvieff's 
154 


THE  EMPEROR  AT  BAY        155 

division  was  preparing  breakfast  on  the  low  plateau 
upon  which  was  situated  the  village  of  Champau- 
bert,  which  had  been  observed  by  Marteau  and  Bal- 
Arret.  Napoleon  reconnoitered  the  place  in  person 
from  the  edge  of  the  wood.  Nansouty's  cavalry  had 
earlier  driven  some  Russian  skirmishers  out  of  Baye, 
but  Olsuvieff  apparently  had  no  conception  of  the 
fact  that  the  whole  French  army  was  hard  by,  and  he 
had  contented  himself  with  sending  out  a  few  scouts, 
who,  unfortunately  for  him,  scouted  in  the  wrong 
direction. 

While  waiting  for  the  infantry  under  Marmont  to 
come  up,  Napoleon  sent  Nansouty's  cavalry  around 
to  the  left  to  head  off  OlsuviefPs  advance  and  inter 
pose  between  him  and  the  rear  guard  of  Sacken's 
division.  Even  the  noise  of  the  little  battle — for 
the  skirmish  was  a  hot  one — a  mile  down  the  road, 
did  not  apprise  the  Russian  of  his  danger,  and  it  was 
not  until  the  long  columns  of  the  French  came  out 
of  the  wood  and  deployed  and  until  the  guns  were 
hauled  into  the  clearing  and  wheeled  into  action, 
that  he  awoke  to  the  fact  that  an  army  was  upon 
him  and  he  would  have  to  fight  for  his  life. 

With  his  unerring  genius  Napoleon  had  struck  at 
the  key  position,  the  very  center  of  Bliicher's  long 
drawn-out  line.  With  but  thirty  thousand  men 
attacking  eighty  thousand  he  had  so  maneuvered  as 
to  be  in  overwhelming  force  at  the  point  of  contact! 
In  other  words,  he  had  got  there  first  with  the  most 
men.  Bliicher's  army  was  separated  into  detach 
ments  and  stretched  out  over  forty  miles  of  roads. 

OlsuviefPs  division  comprised  five  thousand  men 


156    THE  EAGLE  OF  THE  EMPIRE 

with  twenty  guns.  At  first  Napoleon  could  bring 
against  him  not  many  more  than  that  number  of 
men  and  guns,  to  which  must  be  added  Nansouty's 
small  cavalry  division.  And  Olsuvieff,  with  all  the 
advantages  of  the  position,  made  a  magnificent  de 
fense.  As  a  defensive  fighter  the  stubborn  Russian 
took  a  back  seat  for  no  soldier  in  Europe.  But  the 
most  determined  resistance,  the  most  magnificent 
courage,  could  not  avail  against  overwhelming  num 
bers,  especially  directed  and  led  by  Napoleon  in  per 
son,  for  with  every  hour  the  numbers  of  the  assail 
ants  were  increased  by  the  arrival  of  fresh  troops, 
while  with  every  hour  the  defense  grew  weaker 
through  casualties. 

Olsuvieff  might  have  surrendered  with  honor  at 
midday,  but  he  was  a  stubborn  soldier,  and  he  real 
ized,  moreover,  that  it  was  his  duty  to  hold  Na 
poleon  as  long  as  possible.  Even  the  most  indiffer 
ent  commander  could  not  fail  to  see  the  danger  to 
Bliicher's  isolated  corps.  Couriers  broke  through  to 
the  east  to  Sacken  and  Yorck,  who  together  had  over 
thirty-five  thousand  men  under  their  command,  and 
to  the  west  to  Bliicher,  with  as  many  more  men, 
telling  all  these  commanders  of  the  extreme  peril 
of  the  center  and  of  the  frightfully  dangerous  situa 
tion  in  which  their  carelessness  and  the  ability  of 
their  great  enemy  had  involved  them.  The  noise  of 
the  firing,  too,  was  carried  far  and  wide  over  the 
broad  open  fields  and  cultivated  farms  of  the  rolling 
prairie  of  Champagne. 

Bliicher,  however,  could  not  credit  the  intelli 
gence.  He  believed  it  impossible  for  Napoleon  to 


THE  EMPEROR  AT  BAY        157 

have  escaped  from  Schwarzenberg.  He  could  not 
conceive  that  Napoleon  would  leave  the  Austrians 
unopposed  to  march  to  Paris  if  they  would.  He 
could  not  think  that  even  Napoleon  would  venture 
to  attack  eighty  thousand  men  with  thirty,  and,  if 
he  did,  he  reasoned  that  Sacken  and  Yorck  and  Olsu- 
vieff,  singly  or  in  combination,  were  easily  a  match 
for  him.  The  messengers  must  surely  be  mistaken. 
This  could  only  be  a  raid,  a  desperate  stroke  of  some 
corps  or  division.  Therefore,  he  halted  and  then 
drew  back  and  concentrated  on  his  rear  guard  wait 
ing  for  further  news. 

Sacken  and  Yorck  were  nearer  the  fighting.  They 
could  hear  and  see  for  themselves.  They  at  once 
gave  over  the  pursuit  of  Macdonald  and  retraced 
their  steps.  Olsuvieff  made  good  his  defense  until 
nightfall,  when  the  survivors  gave  up  the  battle. 
Fifteen  hundred  men  of  his  brave  division  had  been 
killed  on  the  plateau.  As  many  more  were  wounded 
and  captured,  most  of  whom  subsequently  died,  and 
there  were  about  two  thousand  unhurt  prisoners. 
Their  ammunition  was  exhausted.  They  were  worn 
out.  They  were  overwhelmed  by  massed  charges  at 
last.  Bliicher's  line  was  pierced,  his  center  crushed, 
and  one  of  the  finest  divisions  of  his  army  was 
eliminated. 

In  the  wagon  train  recaptured  at  Aumenier  had 
been  found  arms  and  provisions  and  ammunition. 
Another  Prussian  wagon  train,  blundering  along  the 
road,  was  seized  by  Maurice's  cavalry,  which  had 
been  sent  scouting  to  the  eastward.  From  the  Rus 
sian  camp  the  starving  French  had  got  food,  more 


158    THE  EAGLE  OF  THE  EMPIRE 

arms  and  clothing.  The  dead  were  quickly  despoiled, 
even  the  living  were  forced  to  contribute  to  the  com 
fort  of  their  conquerors.  It  was  night  before  the 
last  French  division  got  up  from  Sezanne,  but  there 
was  enough  food  and  weapons  for  all. 

A  new  spirit  had  come  over  that  army.  What 
had  seemed  to  them  a  purposeless,  ghastly  march 
through  the  mud  was  now  realized  to  be  one  of  the 
most  brilliant  manoeuvres  Napoleon  had  ever  under 
taken.  The  conscripts,  the  raw  boys,  the  National 
Guards,  many  of  whom  had  been  in  action  for  the 
first  time  that  day,  were  filled  with  incredible  en 
thusiasm.  They  were  ready  for  anything. 

But  the  army  must  have  rest.  It  must  be  permit 
ted  to  sleep  the  night.  Accordingly  the  divisions 
were  disposed  in  the  fields.  Those  who  had  fought 
hardest  were  given  quarters  in  the  village;  the  next 
were  placed  in  the  captured  Russian  camp ;  the  oth 
ers  made  themselves  as  comfortable  as  they  could 
around  huge  fires.  The  poor  prisoners  had  little  or 
nothing.  The  ragged  French  were  at  least  better 
clothed  than  they  were  in  the  morning.  The  de 
fenseless  had  arms  and  the  whole  army  had  been 
fed.  There  was  wine,  too ;  the  Russian  commissariat 
was  a  liberal  one.  There  was  much  laughter  and 
jovialness  in  the  camps  that  night.  Of  course,  the 
guard  and  the  other  veterans  expected  nothing  else, 
but  to  the  youngsters  the  brilliant  stroke  of  Na 
poleon  was  a  revelation. 

As  the  little  Emperor  rode  from  division  to  divi 
sion,  sometimes  dismounting  and  walking  through 
the  camps  on  foot,  he  was  received  with  such  ac- 


THE  EMPEROR  AT  BAY        159 

claim  as  reminded  him  of  the  old  days  in  Italy. 
And,  indeed,  the  brief  campaign  which  he  had  so 
brilliantly  inaugurated  can  be  favorably  compared 
to  that  famous  Italian  adventure,  or  to  any  other 
short  series  of  consecutive  military  exploits  in  the 
whole  history  of  war. 

They  said  that  the  Emperor  had  hesitated  and 
lost  his  great  opportunity  at  Borodino.  They  said 
that  he  had  frightfully  miscalculated  at  Moscow, 
that  his  judgment  had  been  grievously  at  fault  in 
the  whole  Russian  campaign.  They  said  that  he 
had  sat  idle  during  a  long  day  when  the  fortunes 
of  his  empire  might  have  been  settled  at  Bautzen. 
They  said  that,  overcome  by  physical  weariness,  he 
had  failed  to  grasp  his  great  opportunity  after  the 
victory  at  Dresden.  They  said  that  Leipsic  and  the 
battles  that  preceded  it  showed  that  he  had  lost  the 
ability  to  see  things  with  a  soldier's  eye.  They  de 
clared  that  he  made  pictures  and  presented  them  to 
himself  as  facts;  that  he  thought  as  an  Emperor,  not 
as  a  Captain.  They  said  that  in  this  very  campaign 
in  France,  the  same  imperial  obsession  had  taken 
such  hold  upon  him  that  in  striving  to  retain  every 
thing  from  Holland  to  the  end  of  the  Italian  penin 
sula  he  stood  to  lose  everything.  They  said  that,  if 
he  had  concentrated  all  his  armies,  withdrawn  them 
from  outlying  dependencies,  he  could  have  over 
whelmed  Bliicher  and  Schwarzenberg,  the  Czar 
Alexander,  the  Emperor  Francis  and  King  William, 
and  that,  having  hurled  them  beyond  the  Rhine, 
these  provinces  in  dispute  would  have  fallen  to  his 


160    THE  EAGLE  OF  THE  EMPIRE 

hand  again.  They  said  that  his  practical  omnipo 
tence  had  blinded  his  judgment. 

Those  things  may  be  true.  But,  whether  they  be 
true  or  not,  no  man  ever  showed  a  finer  strategic 
grasp  of  a  situation,  no  man  ever  displayed  more 
tactical  ability  on  a  given  field,  no  man  ever  conduct 
ed  a  series  of  more  brilliant  enterprises,  no  man  ever 
utilized  a  small,  compact,  well-handled  force  opposed 
to  at  least  two  and  a  half  times  its  number,  no  man 
ever  conducted  a  campaign  which  stood  higher  from 
a  professional  point  of  view  than  this  one  which 
began  with  the  march  from  Nogent  and  the  destruc 
tion  at  Champaubert. 

There  was  no  rest  for  Napoleon  that  night.  Un 
doubtedly  he  was  not  now  the  man  he  had  been. 
Paralyzing  physical  disabilities  before  and  after 
interfered  with  his  movements.  The  enormous 
strains  to  which  he  had  subjected  his  body  and  brain 
sometimes  resulted  in  periods  of  mental  blindness 
and  physical  prostration.  It  was  whispered  that  a 
strange  malady — was  it  some  form  of  epilepsy? — 
sometimes  overcame  the  Emperor  so  that  his  facul 
ties  and  abilities  were  in  abeyance  for  hours.  No 
man  had  ever  abused  such  wonderful  mental  and 
physical  gifts  as  he  originally  had  possessed  by  sub 
jecting  them  to  such  absolutely  impossible  strains  as 
he,  and  Nature  was  having  her  revenge.  But  for 
that  week  in  February  and  for  a  time  thereafter 
there  was  a  strange  and  marvelous  return  of  the  Em 
peror's  physical  powers. 

He  had  sustained  more  fatigue  than  any  man  in 
the  army,  because  to  all  of  the  personal  sufferings  of 


THE  EMPEROR  AT  BAY        161 

the  march  in  the  long  day  and  the  sleepless  night  and 
the  conduct  of  the  battle  had  been  added  responsi 
bility,  but  he  was  as  fresh  as  a  boy.  His  pale  cheek 
showed  rare  color;  his  eyes  sparkled;  his  voice  was 
clear  and  sharp.  The  nervous  twitching  of  his 
mouth  ceased.  The  gray  look  vanished.  He  was 
once  more  the  boyish  Captain  of  the  Army  of  Italy, 
at  whom  the  huge  grenadiers  laughed  and  the  gray- 
headed  veterans  marveled. 

The  Emperor's  scouts  had  been  hard  at  work 
during  the  day.  They  were  constantly  coming  and 
going  at  his  headquarters  at  Champaubert  with  de 
tailed  accounts  of  the  situation  of  the  Russians  and 
the  Prussians.  The  Emperor  had  a  momentous  de 
cision  to  make.  From  the  position  he  had  gained  it 
was  equally  as  easy  for  him  to  strike  east  as  to  strike 
west.  He  decided  at  last  to  strike  west,  realizing 
that  no  captain,  much  less  fiery  old  Bliicher,  with 
out  an  absolute  forfeiture  of  his  reputation  as  a 
soldier  could  afford  to  leave  his  van  unsupported, 
but  that  the  Prussian  Field  Marshal  must  advance 
to  its  support.  If  the  Emperor's  plans  worked  out, 
he  could  destroy  that  van,  and  then  turn  back  and 
mete  out  the  same  fate  to  the  main  body  coming  to 
its  rescue. 

Just  about  ten  miles  away  to  the  westward,  on  the 
main  road  to  Paris  by  way  of  La  Ferte-sous-Jouarre, 
lay  the  village  of  Montmirail.  As  many  miles  be 
yond  Montmirail,  on  the  same  Paris  road,  Sacken, 
with  twenty  thousand  men,  had  been  advancing. 
From  Montmirail  a  road  led  northward  to  Chateau 
Thierry  and  the  crossing  of  the  Marne,  behind 


162    THE  EAGLE  OF  THE  EMPIRE 

which  Macdonald  had  been  driven  by  Yorck,  with 
perhaps  fifteen  thousand  more.  The  Emperor  de 
cided  to  seize  Montmirail,  throw  out  a  corps  to  hold 
back  Yorck  on  the  northern  road,  while  he  crushed 
Sacken  on  the  other  with  the  remainder  of  the  army, 
except  one  corps,  which  he  would  leave  at  Champau- 
bert  to  delay  Bliicher's  advance.  These  army  corps 
were  in  reality  nothing  more  than  weak  divisions, 
less  than  seven  thousand  strong. 

Early  in  the  afternoon  Marteau,  with  old  Bullet- 
Stopper  and  the  little  squadron  of  Maurice's  cavalry, 
had  rejoined  the  Emperor.  He  had  been  greatly  re 
freshed  by  his  night's  sleep.  He  had  taken  advantage 
of  the  early  hours  of  the  morning  to  bury  his  father 
and  sister,  saying  such  prayers  as  he  could  remem 
ber,  in  default  of  the  parish  priest,  who  had  been 
murdered.  The  Emperor  having  sent  a  courier  with 
an  escort  back  to  Nogent,  the  Countess  Laure  and 
her  English  friend  had  elected  to  go  with  them. 
They  feared  to  be  left  alone  in  the  chateau  all  day, 
in  the  disturbed  state  of  the  country,  and  it  was 
easier,  perhaps,  to  reach  Paris  from  Nogent  by  way 
of  the  Seme  than  by  going  direct  from  Sezanne. 
Marteau  had  approved  of  their  decision. 

The  parting  between  the  young  people  had  been 
as  formal  as  possible.  The  Englishman,  on  the  con 
trary,  with  true  British  hospitality,  had  said  that 
if  peace  ever  came  he  would  indeed  be  glad  to  wel 
come  him  at  his  home  in  England.  Marteau  had 
sworn  to  hold  'the  chateau  and  its  land  in  trust  for 
the  Countess,  although  she  protested  she  would  not 
hear  of  anything  of  the  kind.  And  then  he  had  bade 


THE  EMPEROR  AT  BAY        163 

her  farewell.  He  had  arrived  in  time  to  take  part 
in  the  hard  fighting  at  the  close  of  the  day,  and  had 
been  busy  during  the  early  part  of  ;the  night  in 
carrying  messages  and  resuming  his  duties  at  head 
quarters. 

At  two  o'clock  in  the  morning  Napoleon  threw 
himself  down  on  a  peasant's  bed  in  a  hut  and  slept 
until  four.  At  that  hour  he  awakened  and  sum 
moned  the  officer  on  duty.  Marteau  presented  him 
self.  The  Emperor,  as  refreshed  by  his  two  hours  of 
sleep  as  if  he  had  spent  the  night  in  a  comfortable 
bed,  addressed  the  young  man  familiarly.  None 
could  unbend  better  than  he. 

"My  good  Marteau,"  he  began.  "But  stop — Mon 
sieur  le  Comte  d'Aumenier" — he  smiled — "I  have  not 
forgot.  Berthier  has  orders  to  send  to  Paris  to  have 
your  patent  of  nobility  made  out  and  to  see  that 
the  confiscated  Aumenier  lands  are  transferred  to 
you." 

"I  thank  your  Majesty,"  said  the  young  aide, 
deeming  it  wiser  to  say  nothing  of  his  ultimate  in 
tentions  regarding  the  patent  of  nobility  and  the 
estates. 

"It  would  be  a  fine  thing,"  said  the  Emperor,  "if 
you  and  that  girl  should  come  together.  She  is  the 
last  of  her  line,  I  understand,  save  her  old  uncle  in 
England,  who  is  unmarried  and  childless.  Is  it  not 
so?" 

"That  is  true,  Sire." 

"Well,  you  couldn't  do  better.  She  is  a  woman  of 
spirit  and  resolution.  Her  prompt  action  in  the 
chateau  last  night  showed  it.  I  commend  her  to 


164    THE  EAGLE  OF  THE  EMPIRE 

your  consideration.  Were  I  your  age  and  in  your 
station  I  should  like  nothing  better." 

"Your  Majesty  anticipated  my  desire,  my  own 
proposition,  in  fact." 

"What?  You  struck  while  you  had  the  opportu 
nity?  That  was  well." 

"But,  unlike  you,  Sire,  I  struck  unavailingly." 

"The  lady  refused?" 

"Positively.  She  is  of  the  oldest  family  in  France, 
while  I » 

"Marteau,"  said  the  Emperor  sharply,  "no  more 
of  that.  If  you  cannot  be  a  descendant,  be  an  an 
cestor.  Look  at  me.  My  family  began  at  Monte- 
motte,  and  to-day  the  mother  of  my  son  is  a  Haps- 
burg!" 

"But  she  is  engaged  to  the  son  of  that  English 
man,  Sire." 

"Bah,  what  of  that?  Engagements  can  be  broken, 
marriages  even  dissolved.  The  Holy  Father  at  Rome 
will  refuse  me  nothing.  When  I  have  beaten  the 
allies  I  will  take  your  affair  in  hand.  There  are  few 
powers  in  Europe  that  will  turn  a  deaf  ear  to  the 
suggestions  of  the  Emperor  of  the  French,  believe 
me.  The  lady  shall  be  yours." 

"Your  Majesty's  power,"  said  the  young  officer 
dubiously,  "does  not  extend  to  women's  hearts." 

"Does  it  not?"  laughed  the  Emperor  grimly.  "You 
shall  see.  My  word  shall  be  law  again  everywhere. 
With  my  favor  you  will  go  far.  There  are  no  pat 
ents  of  nobility  that  stand  higher  than  mine,  for 
mine  are  based  on  my  recognition  of  merit  alone, 
not  on  accident  of  birth.  You  served  me  well,  and 


THE  EMPEROR  AT  BAY        165 

you  shall  see  that  I  am  not  ungrateful.  Meanwhile, 
to  you  a  new  duty  is  assigned." 

"I  welcome  it  gladly." 

Napoleon  took  an  order  prepared  the  night  before 
from  a  table. 

"This  to  General  Nansouty.  I  want  him  to  march 
at  once.  Read  it.  You  will  see,"  he  continued,  "that 
Nansouty's  cavalry  is  to  hold  Sacken  in  check  until 
I  have  seized  Montmirail.  He  has  guns  with  him. 
Let  him  deploy,  attack  vigorously.  Keep  the  enemy 
occupied  and  gradually  fall  back  upon  Montmirail. 
Ride  with  him  yourself,  and  rejoin  me  at  Montmirail 
about  ten  in  the  morning.  We  should  be  up  then. 
You  understand?"  said  the  Emperor,  ready  to  ex 
plain  his  orders  more  fully,  believing  that  an  order 
could  be  more  intelligently  delivered  if  the  purport 
were  explained  verbally  to  the  bearer,  especially  in 
the  case  of  a  skilled  and  trusted  young  soldier  like 
Marteau. 

"I  understand,  Sire." 

"Away,  then.  Continue  to  merit  my  favor,  for 
upon  that  favor  rests" — he  laughed,  he  was  in  high 
good  spirits  and  humor  that  morning — "the  lady." 

Marteau  saluted.  In  spite  of  himself  a  certain 
hope  began  to  spring  up  in  his  heart.  That  Em 
peror  was  almost  a  demi-god  to  his  men.  Whatever 
he  had  essayed  he  had  generally  achieved  in  times 
past,  and  who  could  tell?  Certainly  they  were  on 
the  eve  of  great  events. 


CHAPTER  XIV 

THE  HAMMER  OF  THE  WAR  GOD 

NANSOUTY'S  brilliant  cavalrymen  were  already 
awake  and  their  general  having  divined  to  some  ex 
tent  the  part  he  was  to  play  in  the  glorious  day,  the 
eleventh  of  February,  the  trumpets  were  already 
calling  his  horsemen  to  arms  when  Marteau  deliv 
ered  the  order  and  took  his  place  by  the  General  as 
the  Emperor's  representative,  a  high  position  and 
great  responsibility  for  so  young  a  soldier.  They 
made  a  hasty  breakfast  and  broke  camp.  Indeed, 
there  was  little  to  break.  The  words  are  only  used 
figuratively,  since  they  had  no  tents.  In  half  an 
hour  after  Marteau  had  left  the  Emperor's  head 
quarters,  the  squadrons  were  formed.  Nansouty,  at 
tended  by  his  staff  and  the  young  officer,  galloped 
to  the  head  of  the  column,  gave  the  word  of  com 
mand  and  the  gallant  horsemen  trotted  down  the 
road. 

They  had  been  posted  near  Fromentieres,  about 
two  miles  from  Champaubert,  for  the  night.  The 
roads  were  bad,  but  they  took  to  the  fields,  and  by 
six  o'clock  they  had  passed  through  the  town  of 
Montmirail,  easily  driving  out  a  few  straggling  bat 
talions  which  occupied  it.  By  eight  o'clock  they 
were  in  touch  with  the  columns  of  Sacken  at  Vieux 

166 


THE  EMPEROR  AT  BAY        167 

Maisons.  A  bit  of  woodland  covered  their  approach. 
It  was  not  until  they  were  almost  upon  them  that 
Sacken's  advance  came  in  touch  with  them.  The 
French  horse  followed  the  Russian  outposts  and  ad 
vance  guards  at  a  gallop  back  to  the  main  column, 
upon  which  they  fell  impetuously.  Batteries  were 
also  deployed  in  the  woods  and  opened  on  the  Rus 
sians. 

Sacken's  men  had  started  after  breakfast  in  a 
rather  leisurely  way,  and  they  had  not  progressed 
very  far  when  Nansouty  surprised  them.  The 
French  rode  down  the  advance  regiments,  threw  the 
heads  of  the  columns  into  confusion,  and  then  gal 
loped  back  to  the  shelter  of  the  wood.  Believing 
that  he  was  about  to  be  attacked  in  force,  Sacken 
deployed,  wasting  much  valuable  time  before  he  dis 
covered  this  was  only  a  cavalry  feint,  whereupon  he 
moved  forward.  It  was  ten  o'clock  before  he  reached 
a  large  farm  called  Haute-Epine.  By  that  time  Na 
poleon  was  ready  for  him.  He  had  left  Marmont 
back  at  Champaubert  to  hold  back  Bliicher.  He 
threw  Mortier  forward  on  the  Chateau-Thierry  road 
to  check  Yorck.  He  put  Friant,  the  veteran  and 
splendid  fighter,  in  echelon  along  the  La  Ferte  road  ; 
withdrew  Nansouty's  cavalry  to  cover  his  own  right, 
and  put  Ney  and  Ricard  in  his  main  battle  line  be 
tween  Friant  on  the  road  and  the  river  on  the  left. 
The  guard,  with  Maurice's  cavalry  d'elite,  he  posted 
on  the  edge  of  the  woodland,  north  of  Montmirail, 
ready  to  throw  to  the  northwestward  to  Marmont, 
or  to  the  west  to  the  support  of  Ney  and  Friant,  as 
events  might  determine.  These  dispositions  were 


168    THE  EAGLE  OF  THE  EMPIRE 

barely  completed  before  the  battle  was  joined  by  the 
Russian  advance. 

Sacken,  who  really  outnumbered  the  forces  op 
posed  to  him  by  at  least  two  thousand  men,  since 
Mortier's  corps,  guarding  the  northwest  road,  was 
perforce  inactive,  and  since  six  thousand  men  had 
been  left  at  Champaubert  under  Marmont  to  re 
tain  Bliicher,  attacked  with  the  utmost  stubborn 
ness  and  gallantry.  He  could  make  no  impression 
on  Friant,  echeloned  on  the  main  road,  and  before 
the  resolute  resistance  his  advancing  divisions 
slowly  obliqued  to  the  right  toward  another  walled 
farmhouse,  called  Epine-aux-Bois,  in  a  stretch  of 
lowland  watered  by  a  brook. 

Napoleon,  seeing  the  whole  course  of  the  battle 
clearly,  laid  a  trap  for  him.  He  withdrew  Nansouty 
from  the  battle,  and  ordered  Ricard,  in  command  of 
his  extreme  left,  to  retreat  slowly,  fighting  as  if 
defeated.  Sacken,  as  he  saw  the  wavering  on  his 
right,  threw  his  heaviest  battalions  and  regiments 
upon  that  point,  and  attacked  with  headlong  im 
petuosity.  At  the  same  time  he  had  enough  men  left 
to  keep  Friant  busy  and  in  check.  Napoleon,  seeing 
the  success  of  his  ruse,  suddenly  brought  up  the 
Guard.  He  threw  it  around  the  right  flank  of  Friant, 
and  Sacken's  left  immediately  began  to  give  way. 
Ricard  stopped  his  retreat  suddenly  and  stood  like 
a  stone  wall.  His  withdrawing  Eagles  moved  for 
ward.  The  advance  of  the  Russian  right  stopped 
also,  the  Muscovite  officers  and  soldiers  were  greatly 
amazed  by  the  sudden  resistance  of  an  enemy  re 
treating  a  moment  since.  One  division  of  the  Guard 


THE  EMPEROR  AT  BAY        169 

moved  out  to  the  support  of  Friant,  who  also  ad 
vanced.  The  other  division  joined  Mortier,  who  was 
in  a  hot  fight  with  Yorck's  cavalry  and  light  infan 
try.  Napoleon  now  turned  to  General  Maurice,  who 
had  ridden  up  in  advance  of  his  horsemen. 

"There" — he  pointed  down  the  hill  toward  the 
dark  masses  of  the  Russian  right — "there's  your 
chance,  General." 

The  Comte  de  Vivonne  needed  but  the  word. 
Turning  in  his  saddle  he  raised  his  sword.  His  cav 
alry  had  been  waiting  with  unconcealed  impatience 
during  the  morning.  Eagerly  they  responded  to  the 
command.  Dashing  down  the  hill  they  fell  on  the 
puzzled  Russian  infantry  around  Epine-aux-Bois. 
Ricard's  men  opened  to  give  them  way.  What  had 
been  a  triumphant  advance  was  turned  into  a  re 
treat.  The  retreat  bade  fair  to  be  a  disaster,  but  the 
Russians,  as  has  been  noted,  were  splendid  defensive 
soldiers.  They  formed  squares.  Although  regiment 
after  regiment  had  been  ridden  over  and  beaten  to 
pieces,  those  who  remained  fought  stubbornly. 

Sacken  perceived  now  that  his  only  hope  was  to 
effect  a  junction  with  Yorck.  He  withdrew  his  men 
under  cover  of  his  artillery  to  Vieux-Maisons,  and 
began  to  lead  them  by  the  left  flank,  at  the  same 
time  sending  frantic  messages  to  Yorck,  imploring 
him  to  hasten.  But  Yorck's  guns  were  mired.  He 
had  only  the  teams  attached  to  them.  He  could  get 
no  other  horses.  He  was  unaccountably  delayed. 
He  had  faced  about  at  the  sound  of  the  firing,  but 
the  movements  of  his  main  body  were  slow,  deliber 
ate.  Nansouty,  who  had  opened  the  battle,  was 


170    THE  EAGLE  OF  THE  EMPIRE 

now  sent  in  by  Napoleon  to  deliver  the  coup-de- 
grdce.  With  characteristic  gallantry  he  fell  upon 
the  Russian  columns. 

Sacken  was  driven  from  the  field.  In  killed, 
wounded,  and  prisoners  he  had  lost  half  his  force 
and  all  of  his  guns.  His  troops  streamed  westward 
through  roads  and  woods  in  wild  confusion.  He 
would  have  been  annihilated  then  and  there  but  for 
the  arrival  of  Yorck.  The  Prussian  at  last  fell  on 
Mortier's  weak  corps  and  the  Guard  on  the  northern 
road.  Mortier's  men  were  outnumbered  four  to  one. 
They  made  a  desperate  resistance,  but  it  was  not 
until  Napoleon  ordered  up  the  other  division  of  the 
Guard,  which  had  only  been  lightly  engaged,  and 
Maurice's  cavalry,  that  Yorck's  advance  was 
checked. 

The  short  day  had  drawn  to  a  close.  Prepara 
tions  were  made  to  pass  the  night  on  the  field  and  in 
the  'town.  All  of  Sacken's  baggage  train  and  provi 
sions  had  fallen  into  Napoleon's  hands.  Montmirail 
had  been  a  more  decisive  victory  than  Champaubert. 
Twenty  thousand  men  had  been  eliminated  from 
calculations  for  the  time  being.  Sending  couriers 
to  Macdonald  to  move  down  the  banks  of  the 
Marne  with  all  possible  speed,  to  get  in  the  rear  of 
Yorck,  with  whom  he  purposed  to  deal  on  the  mor 
row,  Napoleon,  in  high  spirits,  made  preparations 
for  the  next  day's  battle. 

The  next  morning,  the  thirteenth,  leaving  a  heavy 
force  to  check  any  possible  attack  by  Sacken,  who 
had,  with  incredible  energy  and  labor,  partially  at 
least  reorganized  his  shattered  troops,  but  who  was 


THE  EMPEROR  AT  BAY        171 

too  weak  to  do  anything  more  than  lead  them  away 
from  any  possible  touch  with  Napoleon's  troops,  the 
Emperor  advanced  toward  the  little  village  of  Cha 
teau-Thierry.  Yorck,  by  this  time,  had  learned  the 
full  details  of  the  disaster  to  Sacken.  Indeed,  sev 
eral  of  Sacken's  brigades  had  joined  him,  consider 
ably  augmenting  his  force.  But  he  was  now  no 
match  for  Napoleon.  To  stay  meant  annihilation. 
He  hastily  made  his  disposition  for  a  rear  guard  de 
fense  and  a  withdrawal.  He  made  a  stubborn  rear 
guard  battle  of  it  during  the  day,  and,  although  he 
lost  heavily  in  men,  guns  and  supplies,  he  finally 
succeeded  in  crossing  the  Marne  and  breaking  the 
bridges  behind  him. 

Macdonald  had  moved  tardily.  If  he  had  shown 
half  the  enterprise  of  the  Emperor  he  would  have 
been  at  the  crossing  of  the  Marne  in  good  time  and 
Yorck  would  have  been  caught  in  a  trap  whence  he 
could  not  have  extricated  himself.  As  it  was,  Napo 
leon  added  largely  to  the  number  of  prisoners  taken 
and  the  number  of  enemies  killed.  Altogether  he 
had  put  twenty-five  thousand  men  out  of  action,  in 
killed,  wounded  and  prisoners.  He  had  taken  one 
hundred  and  twenty  guns — so  many  that  he  had  to 
tumble  them  into  the  creeks  and  rivers,  because  he 
could  not  transport  them  all.  He  had  rearmed  and 
reclothed  and  provided  for  his  gallant  little  army 
at  the  expense  of  the  enemy.  It  was  an  exploit  of 
which  even  he  could  be  proud.  On  the  other  hand, 
in  these  operations  the  French  had  lost  some  four 
thousand  men  killed  and  wounded,  and,  as  their 


172    THE  EAGLE  OF  THE  EMPIRE 

army  was  so  small,  they  could  ill  afford  such  a 
diminution  of  their  forces. 

Meantime,  Bliicher,  apprised  of  these  disasters, 
and  at  last  awakened  to  his  peril,  bravely  marched 
westward.  He  had  come  in  touch  with  Marmont, 
and  had  driven  him  out  of  Champaubert  after  a  des 
perate  resistance.  The  day  after  the  elimination  of 
Yorck,  the  fourteenth,  Napoleon  headed  his  tired 
but  triumphant  troops  back  over  the  road  to  Cham 
paubert,  sending  word  to  Marmont  to  hold  the  Prus 
sians  in  check  as  long  as  possible,  to  dispute  every 
rod  of  the  way,  but  not  to  throw  away  his  precious 
men  or  bring  on  a  general  engagement  until  the 
Emperor  arrived. 

The  morning  after  that  Napoleon  fell  on  Bliicher, 
who  clearly  outnumbered  the  French.  But  the  allies 
were  dismayed  and  disheartened.  The  name  of  the 
Emperor  whom  they  had  defeated  and  driven  across 
Europe  was  again  full  of  terror  to  them.  The 
French  were  accordingly  elated.  They  would  not  be 
denied.  Marmont's  men,  intoxicated  with  the  news 
of  the  success  of  the  other  divisions  of  the  army, 
just  as  soon  as  they  were  given  the  word,  which  was 
just  as  soon  as  Napoleon  could  bring  up  their  com 
rades,  fell  on  Bliicher  like  a  storm.  They  came  in 
battle  contact  in  the  village  of  Vauchamps.  The 
fighting  was  of  the  most  desperate  character.  The 
battle  was  harder  than  all  of  the  others  put  together. 
Bavarians,  Prussians,  and  Russians,  fighting  under 
the  eye  of  brave  old  Blucher  himself,  who  recklessly 
exposed  his  person  on  the  field,  were  tenacious  and 
courageous  to  the  highest  degree,  but  the  tactics  and 


THE  EMPEROR  AT  BAY        173 

dispositions  of  Napoleon,  the  spirit  of  his  men,  his 
own  equally  reckless  exposure  of  his  person  under 
fire,  and  a  cavalry  dash  at  the  allied  rear  at  Jan- 
villiers,  finally  turned  the  wavering  tide  of  battle. 
The  allies  began  to  retreat,  the  French  followed. 

The  French  pursued  relentlessly,  but  with  splen 
did  skill  and  determination  Bliicher  himself  in  com 
mand  of  the  rearguard  fought  them  off.  Napoleon 
had  foreseen  this.  He  had  massed  all  the  cavalry 
under  Grouchy  and  had  sent  them  on  a  long  round 
about  march  across  country  to  get  in  Bliicher's  rear. 
Just  beyond  Champaubert,  in  a  dense  wood  in  front 
of  the  village  of  Etoges,  the  retreating  allies  found 
the  road  barred  by  the  cavalry.  Grouchy  had  been 
provided  with  sufficient  artillery  to  enable  him  to 
hold  the  retreat  in  check,  but  the  mud  still  pre 
vailed,  many  horses  had  been  shot  and  killed,  the 
peasants'  horses  drawing  the  guns  had  been  unable 
to  keep  pace  with  the  necessarily  rapid  movements 
of  the  cavalry,  and  the  batteries  had  not  come  up. 
Nor  was  there  any  supporting  infantry.  Indeed,  the 
retreat  of  the  Prussians  had  been  so  sudden  and  so 
rapid  that  Grouchy's  horse  had  been  hard  put  to  it 
to  intercept  them. 

The  regiments  leading  the  allied  retreat  were 
formed  in  squares,  and  with  musketry  and  cannon 
animated  with  the  courage  of  despair,  they  forced  a 
passage  through  the  charging,  barring  masses  of  the 
French  cavalry,  not,  however,  without  losing  several 
of  the  squares  in  the  process.  It  was  their  only  pos 
sible  way  to  safety.  As  it  was,  Bliicher  himself  nar 
rowly  escaped  capture. 


174    THE  EAGLE  OF  THE  EMPIRE 

Napoleon's  soldiers  had  fought  five  pitched  battles 
in  four  days.  As  a  preparation,  they  had  marched 
thirty  miles,  night  and  day,  over  incredible  roads. 
They  were  now  utterly  exhausted.  They  could  do 
no  more.  They  must  have  a  good  rest.  Bliicher's 
forces  had  been  scattered,  eliminated,  defeated  in 
detail.  There  was  now  nothing  for  the  Field  Mar 
shal  to  do  but  to  retreat  and  rally  his  men.  The  suc 
cess  of  the  Emperor  had  been  brilliant  in  the  ex 
treme. 

The  fighting  was  not  over,  however,  for  thirty 
miles  to  the  southward  lay  the  vast  army  of 
Schwarzenberg.  Napoleon  might  have  pursued 
Bliicher  to  the  bitter  end.  Military  critics  say  he 
should  have  done  so.  To  him,  however,  on  the  spot, 
it  seemed  proper  to  leave  Bliicher  for  the  time  being 
and  endeavor  to  repeat  on  Schwarzenberg  the  mar 
velous  tactics  of  the  five  days'  fight. 

The  next  morning,  the  fifteenth,  he  started  back 
to  Nogent  whence  he  had  come.  Victor  and  Oudi- 
not  had  been  fighting  hard  with  Schwarzenberg,  but 
the  news  of  Napoleon's  victories  had  finally  caused 
the  cautious  Austrian  to  stop.  He  began  the  recall 
and  concentration  of  his  own  scattered  divisions. 
He,  at  least,  would  not  be  caught  napping.  As  usual 
the  enemy  learned  something,  even  in  defeat. 

Speed  was  still  essential  to  Napoleon.  His  men 
had  had  twenty-four  hours  of  rest.  His  horses  were 
comparatively  fresh.  The  weather  had  changed,  the 
roads  were  frozen,  horribly  rough,  but  still  much 
more  passable  than  before.  Once  again  the  Emperor 
resorted  to  the  peasantry.  They,  too,  had  been  in- 


THE  EMPEROR  AT  BAY        175 

toxicated  with  the  news  of  his  victories,  many  of 
which  they  had  witnessed  and,  in  the  plunder  re 
sulting,  had  shared.  They  brought  their  horses 
which  they  had  hidden  in  ravines  and  forests  when 
the  country  was  overrun  by  the  enemy.  This  time, 
instead  of  attaching  them  to  the  guns  which  their 
own  teams — recruited  from  the  captures — could 
draw  on  the  hard  roads,  Napoleon  had  them  hitched 
to  the  big  farm  wagons.  Into  the  wagons  he  loaded 
his  infantry.  And  at  the  highest  speed  of  the  horses 
the  whole  force  made  its  way  to  the  southward. 
To  other  victories — to  defeats — to  what? 

The  Emperor  began  once  again  to  dream  of  an 
empire  whose  boundaries  would  be  the  Vistula  in 
stead  of  the  Rhine. 


BOOK  II 
THE  EAGLE'S  FLIGHT 


CHAPTER  XV 

THE  BRIDGE  AT  ARCIS 

THE  long  journey  was  at  last  over.  The  last  Alp 
had  been  surmounted,  the  last  pass  traversed.  Be 
hind  them  rose  the  snowy  summit  of  mighty  Mont 
Blanc  itself.  Before  them  lay  their  wearying  jour 
ney's  end.  It  was  cold  even  in  sunny  Southern 
France  on  that  morning  in  early  spring.  Marteau, 
his  uniform  worn,  frayed,  travel-stained,  and  dusty, 
his  close-wrapped  precious  parcel  held  to  his  breast 
under  his  shabby  great  coat,  his  face  pale  and  hag 
gard  from  hardship  and  heartbreak,  his  body  weak 
and  wasted  from  long  illness  and  long  captivity, 
stood  on  the  top  of  a  ridge  of  the  hill  called  Mont 
Rachais,  overlooking  the  walled  town  of  Grenoble, 
on  the  right  bank  of  the  Isere.  The  Fifth-of-the- 
Line  had  been  stationed  there  before  in  one  of  the 
infrequent  periods  of  peace  during  the  Napoleonic 
era.  He  was  familiar  with  the  place  and  he  knew 
exactly  where  to  look  for  what  he  expected  to  see. 

More  ragged  and  tattered,  more  travel-stained 
indeed,  and  with  only  the  semblance  of  a  uniform 
left,  was  the  young  lad  who  stood  by  the  soldier's 
side.  But  the  boy  was  in  good  health  and  looked 
strong  and  sturdy. 

"There,"  said  the  officer.  "You  see  that  square 
179 


bulk  of  buildings  against  the  wall  beyond  the  Cathe 
dral  church-tower  and  over  the  Palais  de  Justice?" 

"I  see  them,  my  officer/'  answered  the  other,  shad 
ing  his  hand  and  staring  over  the  roofs  and  walls 
and  spires  of  the  compact  little  town. 

"The  barracks  will  be  there  unless  the  regiment 
has  moved.  That  will  be  the  end  of  our  journey." 

"The  building  with  the  flag,  you  mean,  mon 
sieur?"  asked  Pierre. 

"That  one." 

Alas!  the  flag  was  no  longer  the  tricolor  but  the 
white  flag  of  ancient  royal  France.  Marteau  heaved 
a  deep  sigh  as  he  stared  at  it  with  sad  eyes  and  sad 
der  face. 

The  unexpected,  that  is,  from  the  young  soldier's 
point  of  view,  had  happened.  The  empire  was  no 
more.  The  allies  had  triumphed.  The  Emperor 
has  been  beaten.  He  had  abdicated  and  gone.  He 
was  practically  a  prisoner  on  the  little  island  of 
Elba,  adjacent  to  that  greater  island  of  Corsica, 
where  he  had  been  born.  The  great  circle  of  his 
life  had  been  completed.  And  all  the  achievements 
were  to  be  comprehended  between  those  two  little 
islands  in  the  blue  Mediterranean — from  Corsica  to 
Elba,  the  phrase  ran.  Was  that  all? 

Much  water  had  flowed  under  the  bridges  of 
Europe  since  that  mad  ride  of  the  infantry  in  the 
farm  wagons  to  face  Schwarzenberg  after  their 
smashing  and  successful  attacks  upon  Bliicher,  al 
though  the  intervening  tune  had  been  short.  A 
year  had  scarcely  elapsed,  but  that  twelve  months 
had  been  crowded  with  incident,  excitement,  and 


THE  EAGLE'S  FLIGHT         181 

vivid  interest  almost  unparalleled  by  any  similar 
period  in  modern  history.  The  Emperor  had,  in 
deed,  fought  hard  for  his  throne  and  against  heavy 
odds.  He  had  fought  against  indifference,  against 
carelessness,  against  negligence,  last  of  all  against 
treachery.  For  in  the  end  it  was  treachery  that  had 
undone  him  and  France.  Still,  it  may  be  that  even 
had  Marmont  and  Mortier  remained  loyal  the  end 
would  have  been  the  same. 

The  odds  were  too  heavy,  in  fine.  The  Emperor 
did  not  realize  their  preponderance  until  it  was  too 
late.  If  he  had  assembled  every  soldier,  abandon 
ing  everything  else  but  the  defense  of  France,  and 
if  he  had  shown  with  such  an  army  as  he  could 
have  gathered  under  those  conditions  the  same 
spirit  of  generalship  which  he  had  exhibited  in  that 
marvelous  campaign  against  Bliicher,  he  might  have 
saved  France,  his  throne,  his  wife,  his  little  son,  his 
prestige,  everything.  As  it  was,  he  lost  all.  But 
not  without  fighting.  Stubborn,  determined,  mag 
nificently  defiant  he  had  been  to  the  last. 

Marteau  had  often  thrilled  to  the  recollection  dur 
ing  the  long  hours  he  spent  in  captivity  in  Austria, 
and  even  in  the  delirium  and  fever  of  his  long  and 
wasting  illness,  begot  of  the  foul  prison,  he  had 
remembered  it.  In  all  the  hard  fighting  and  hard 
marching  of  those  mournful  if  splendid  days  the 
young  man  had  faithfully  and  well  borne  his  import 
ant  if  humble  part.  There  was  a  great  dearth  of 
officers,  staff  officers  as  well  as  the  others.  He  had 
been  very  near  to  the  Emperor  during  those  last 
days. 


182    THE  EAGLE  OF  THE  EMPIRE 

He  remembered  the  smashing  attack  upon  the  van 
of  the  allies  at  Montereau.  He  could  feel  once  more 
the  thrill  of  the  army,  as  the  circumspect  Schwarzen- 
berg  stopped  his  advance,  retired,  concentrated  his 
columns.  He  remembered  the  long,  swift  march 
back  across  the  country,  after  further  demonstrations 
to  keep  Schwarzenberg  in  his  cautious  mood,  against 
the  rear  of  the  reorganized  and  advancing  army  of 
Bliicher;  the  desperate,  bloody,  fruitless  battles  of 
Laon  and  Craonne,  rendered  necessary  by  treachery. 

He  could  recall  again  the  furious  rage  of  Napoleon, 
the  almost  despair  that  filled  the  Emperor's  heart, 
when  the  news  came  of  the  cowardly  surrender  of 
the  fort  at  Soissons  by  its  incapable  commandant, 
which  rendered  useless  Napoleon's  cunning  plans, 
and  all  the  hard  marching  and  harder  fighting  of  his 
heroic  soldiery. 

He  recalled  the  escape  of  hard-pressed  Bliicher 
again,  the  return  of  the  French  to  face  the  over 
whelming  main  army  of  the  allies,  slowly  but  surely 
moving  toward  its  goal  whenever  the  withdrawal  of 
the  Emperor  left  it  free  to  advance,  the  detachment 
of  Marmont  and  Mortier  to  defend  Paris,  the  fierce 
two-day  battle  at  Arcis-sur-Aube,  the  dash  of  Mau 
rice's  and  Sebastiani's  gallant  cavalry  upon  the  whole 
Austrian  army,  the  deadly  conflict  before  the  bridge, 
the  picture  of  the  retreat  that  bade  fair  to  become 
a  rout. 

He  could  see  again  the  Emperor,  riding  down, 
sword  in  hand,  into  the  midst  of  the  fugitives  cross 
ing  the  bridge,  and,  amid  a  storm  of  bullets,  order 
ing  and  beseeching  and  imploring  the  men  to  rally. 


THE  EAGLE'S  FLIGHT         183 

He  had  been  there  on  that  mad  March  morning. 
He  would  never  forget  the  sight  of  that  figure,  the 
words  the  Emperor  said.  It  reminded  him  of  the 
dash  of  the  "little  corporal"  with  the  flag  on  the 
bridge  of  Lodi,  of  which  old  Bullet-Stopper  had 
often  told  him  and  the  other  young  men  over  the 
camp-fires. 

The  Fifth-of-the-Line  had  immortalized  itself 
that  day,  adding  to  the  fame  it  had  gained  upon  a 
hundred  fields,  an  imperishable  crown.  Napoleon 
saw  that  the  battle  was  lost,  that  the  whole  Aus 
trian  army  had  blundered  upon  that  first  French 
division  and  that,  unless  their  steady  advance  could 
be  checked,  the  division  itself  would  be  cut  to  pieces. 
Men  had  grown  more  precious  to  the  Emperor  every 
hour.  What  would  he  not  have  given  for  those  he 
had  spent  so  recklessly  years  before?  And  here  was 
a  whole  division  about  to  be  annihilated,  to  say 
nothing  of  the  cavalry,  which  had  performed  prodi 
gies  of  valor. 

"What  regiment  is  that?"  he  had  asked  Marteau, 
who  was  riding  at  his  heels  in  the  midst  of  the  fugi 
tives,  and  doing  his  best  to  second  the  Emperor's 
frantic  efforts  to  restore  order  and  bring  the  men 
to  a  stand. 

"The  Fifth-of-the-Line,  Sire." 

"Your  old  regiment?" 

"The  same,  Sire." 

"It  still  stands." 

"And  it  will  stand." 

"Good!  Go  to  it.  Tell  them  that  I,  the  Em 
peror,  devote  them  to  death,  for  me  and  for  the 


184    THE  EAGLE  OF  THE  EMPIRE 

army.  They  must  hold  the  Austrians  in  check  and 
cover  the  retreat." 

"Farewell,  Sire,"  the  young  soldier  had  said,  sa 
luting. 

"What  mean  you?" 

"I  shall  not  come  back  with  the  remainder." 

"Adieu,"  said  the  Emperor,  acknowledging  the 
salute  and  understanding  all. 

How  well  Marteau  remembered  that  frightful  con 
flict.  The  Fifth-of-the-Line  had  not  waited  to  be 
attacked.  It  had  gone  forward.  The  Colonel  had 
been  shot  down.  Officer  after  officer  had  fallen. 
The  advancing  line  had  wavered,  hesitated,  halted. 
The  Eagle-bearer  fell.  Eager  hands  caught  the  staff. 
The  Austrian  fire  was  concentrated  upon  it.  The 
color  guard  was  shot  to  pieces.  The  Eagle  itself 
had  the  tip  of  its  right  wing  shot  away.  Mortal  men 
could  do  no  more.  The  regiment  began  to  give 
back. 

It  was  Marteau  who  sprang  to  the  front,  he  and 
young  Pierre,  who  had  attached  himself  to  the  offi 
cer  in  a  sort  of  unofficial  way.  It  was  Marteau  who 
seized  the  Eagle ;  it  was  he  who  rallied  the  line.  The 
new  men  formed  up  like  veterans,  the  old  men  set 
tled  in  their  places,  cool  and  ready.  They  returned 
the  Austrian  fire,  they  checked  the  Austrian  ad 
vance,  they  stood  ready  while  the  troops  behind 
them  ran  for  their  lives.  Napoleon,  whose  eye  noth 
ing  escaped,  saw  it  all.  He  even  recognized  Mar 
teau  carrying  the  Eagle. 

The  Fifth-of-the-Line  made  good  that  defense 
until  the  time  came  for  the  retreat.  Then  it  retired 


THE  EAGLE'S  FLIGHT          185 

slowly,  fighting  every  step  of  the  way  down  the  low 
hill  to  the  bridge.  The  men  dropped  by  scores. 
The  Austrians,  seeing  victory  in  reach,  pressed 
closer.  A  charge  at  the  last  minute  by  the  cuirassiers 
of  the  Emperor  Francis'  guard  almost  completed  the 
annihilation  of  the  first  battalion  of  the  regiment. 
The  survivors  sought  to  form  a  square,  under  a  with 
ering  gun  fire,  to  meet  the  uplifted  sabers  of  the 
heavy  cavalry.  There  were  not  enough  of  them 
left.  They  were  ridden  down.  Two  hundred  and 
fifty  of  the  four  hundred  who  went  into  that  fight 
lay  dead  on  that  field.  Of  the  survivors  scarce  a 
handful  got  across  the  river.  Some  of  the  unhurt 
men,  disdaining  quarter  and  unable  to  fly,  fought 
until  they  fell.  The  wounded,  of  whom  there  were 
many,  were  all  captured  out  of  hand. 

Marteau,  with  the  Eagle,  had  stood  nearest  the 
enemy.  They  had  swarmed  about  him  at  last.  He 
found  himself  alone,  save  for  the  boy,  Pierre.  He 
could  see  the  red-faced,  excited,  shouting,  yelling, 
passion-animated  Austrian  soldiers  crowding  upon 
him.  His  sword  was  broken,  his  pistols  empty  and 
gone.  He  was  defenseless.  Retreat  was  cut  off.  The 
Eagle  staff  had  been  shot  away.  The  flag  torn  to 
pieces.  Hands  were  stretched  out  to  seize  it.  He 
could  not  escape  with  it,  yet  it  must  not  fall  to  the 
enemy.  It  was  the  tradition  of  the  service  that 
the  Eagles  were  to  be  preserved  at  all  hazards — not 
the  flag,  that  was  a  mere  perishable  adjunct  to  the 
Eagle,  but  the  Eagle  itself.  The  river  ran  but  a 
few  feet  away.  Thrusting  aside  the  nearest  Austrian 
with  the  stump  of  his  blade,  Marteau  cleared  a  path 


186    THE  EAGLE  OF  THE  EMPIRE 

for  a  second,  and  into  the  swift  deep  waters  he  hurled 
the  sacred  emblem. 

He,  at  least,  he  thought  swiftly,  had  a  right  to 
dispose  of  it  thus,  for  out  of  the  waters  of  the  Elster 
he  had  brought  it,  so  into  the  waters  of  the  Aube 
he  threw  it. 

With  cries  of  rage,  for  the  Eagle  was  the  most 
precious  spoil  of  war,  and  the  regiment  or  the  officer 
seizing  it  was  distinguished  above  all  others,  the  Aus- 
trians  would  have  cut  him  down  where  he  stood 
with  arms  crossed,  facing  the  enemy,  but  officers 
who  had  ridden  up  had  seen  the  exploit  and  had 
interfered.  He  had  been  made  a  prisoner  and  Pierre 
with  him.  He  just  had  time  to  whisper  to  the  boy 
to  mark  well  the  spot  where  the  Eagle  had  disap 
peared  in  the  waters  before  they  marched  away. 

While  under  guard  with  other  prisoners  at  Salz 
burg  he  had  heard  the  story  of  the  end.  How  Na 
poleon,  trusting  the  defense  of  Paris  to  Marmont 
and  Mortier,  had  resolved  on  the  bold  move  of  cut 
ting  the  communications  of  the  allies  with  his  little 
army,  and  how  the  allies  had  decided  to  disregard 
their  rear  and  march  on  Paris;  how  Marmont  and 
Mortier  had  battled  for  the  capital,  how  the  Em 
peror,  hearing  of  their  straits,  had  begun  that  mad 
march  toward  his  beloved  city ;  how  he  had  ordered 
every  soldier  that  could  be  reached  to  march  in  that 
direction ;  how  he  had  stopped  at  a  wayside  inn  one 
night  for  a  few  hours'  rest,  after  a  furious  day's 
ride,  only  to  be  told  that  Marmont  and  Mortier  had 
gone  over  to  the  enemy,  that  Paris  was  lost! 

The  prisoners  had  learned  how  the  Emperor,  not 


THE  EAGLE'S  FLIGHT          187 

yet  despairing,  had  striven  to  quicken  the  spirits  of 
his  marshals  and  soldiers  for  a  last  try;  how  the 
marshals  and  great  officers  had  failed  him.  They  had 
all  heard  of  those  lonely  hours  at  Fontainebleau,  of 
the  farewell  to  the  Guard,  of  the  kiss  on  the  Eagle, 
which  he  surrendered  to  General  Petit,  of  the  abdi 
cation,  of  the  exile  to  Elba,  of  the  restoration  of 
King  Louis. 

It  had  made  Marteau  ill,  frightfully  so,  and  but  for 
the  tender  nursing  and  loving  care  of  young  Pierre  he 
had  died.  The  lad  had  been  devotion  itself,  but  Mar 
teau  missed  more  than  anything  else  the  companion 
ship,  the  sage  advice,  the  bon  camaraderie  of  old 
Bullet-Stopper.  He  had  never  seen  him  or  heard 
from  him  after  that  day  at  the  bridge-head  at  Arcis. 
Where  was  he  now? 

Oh,  yes,  those  days  and  their  tidings  would  never 
be  forgot.  They  all  came  back  to  the  young  officer, 
as  with  his  humble  but  devoted  companion  he  stood 
there  on  the  heights  above  Grenoble  looking  at  the 
white  flag. 


CHAPTER   XVI 

THE   GATE   IN   THE   WALL 

THE  two  travelers  were  stopped  by  the  guard  at 
the  main  gate  in  the  walls  that  encircled  the  town. 
Marteau  had  drawn  his  old  cloak  closely  about  him, 
so  that  it  was  not  evident  that  he  was  in  uniform. 
Pierre's  nondescript  garments  were  so  tattered  and 
torn  that  neither  would  they  betray  the  pair.  The 
sentry  was  clad  in  the  old  uniform  of  the  Fifth-of- 
the-Line,  except  that  he  sported  a  white  cockade  in 
his  head-gear  and  every  device  that  referred  to  the 
Empire  had  been  carefully  eliminated.  Still  he  was 
the  same  soldier,  and  Marteau  recognized  him  at 
once  as  one  of  the  veterans  of  the  regiment.  The 
recognition  was  not  mutual.  Captivity,  illness,  pri 
vation  had  wrought  many  changes  in  the  officer's 
face.  The  man  looked  at  him  curiously  and  wonder- 
ingly,  however,  as  he  challenged  him. 

"My  friend,"  asked  the  officer,  "of  what  regiment 
are  you,  I  pray?" 

"The  Fifth-of-the "  began  the  man  instinc 
tively,  apparently,  and  then  he  stopped.  "The  regi 
ment  Dauphine,"  he  answered,  his  face  clouding. 

"And  what  battalion?" 

"The  first,  sir." 

"Are  there  other  troops  in  garrison?" 
188 


THE  EAGLE'S  FLIGHT         189 

"Another  regiment  of  infantry,  that  was  the  Sev 
enth.  I  don't  know  its  new  name.  And  some  artil 
lery  to  man  the  walls." 

"Good.  I  should  like Who  is  in  command  of 

the  town?" 

"There  is  a  new  one  since  yesterday.  He  has  just 
come  down  from  Paris,  the  King  sent " 

At  that  instant  the  gruff  voice  of  the  subaltern  in 
command  of  the  detachment  at  the  gate  rang  out. 

"Turn  out  the  guard  for  the  Commanding  Officer." 

"Back,  monsieur,"  cried  the  soldier,  falling  into 
line  with  his  comrades,  who  came  running  from  the 
guard-house  and  ranged  themselves  in  order. 

Marteau  stepped  back  into  the  shadow  of  the 
gate,  just  as  a  carriage  and  four,  carrying  three  peo 
ple  and  attended  by  a  brilliant  cavalry  escort,  dashed 
through  the  narrow  street  of  the  town  and  passed 
out  of  the  gate,  the  soldiers  of  the  guard  standing 
at  attention  in  line  and  presenting  arms  as  the  car 
riage  and  its  following  went  on  into  the  country 
by  the  highroad.  The  horses  had  been  moving  at  a 
fast  trot.  Marteau  had  time  for  but  one  glance  as 
the  vehicle  passed.  One  glance  was  enough.  When 
the  guard  had  been  dismissed  and  the  soldier  on 
post  turned  again  to  look  at  the  officer,  he  was 
astonished  at  the  change  that  had  come  over  him. 
Marteau,  pale  as  death,  leaned  against  the  wall,  his 
hand  on  his  heart. 

"What's  the  matter?"  cried  the  soldier,  staring  at 
him  curiously. 

"Has  monsieur  seen  a  ghost?"  asked  young  Pierre, 
running  toward  him  in  great  anxiety. 


"Who — who  was  that?"  asked  Marteau,  who  had 
received  a  dreadful  shock  apparently. 

"The  governor  of  the  town." 

"Yes,  yes,  I  know,  but  his  name?" 

"I  was  about  to  tell  you.  The  Marquis  de 

Upon  my  word,  I  have  forgot  it." 

"Was  it  by  any  chance  the  Marquis  d'Aumenier?" 

"That's  it,"  said  the  soldier. 

"And  the  man  with  him  in  the  red  coat?" 

The  soldier  spat  into  the  dust  to  show  his  con 
tempt. 

"An  English  milord." 

"And  the  lady?" 

"I  don't  know.  They  say,  the  wife  of  that  Eng 
lishman.  Things  have  come  to  a  pretty  pass," 
growled  the  soldier,  turning  away,  "when  our  girls 

many  these  English  beef-eaters,  and It  was 

not  so  in  the  day  of  the  Em " 

He  stopped  suddenly,  wondering  fearfully  whether 
his  garrulousness  had  betrayed  him  into  an  impru 
dence  with  this  stranger. 

"No,"  said  Marteau  reassuringly.  "Will  you  let 
me  pass,  comrade?  I  am  an  old  soldier  of — the  Em 
pire."  He  had  no  hesitation  in  avowing  himself 
under  the  circumstances.  "See,"  he  threw  open  his 
cloak,  disclosing  his  uniform. 

"Why,  that  is  the  uniform  of  this  regiment!"  ex 
claimed  the  amazed  soldier. 

"Yes." 

"And  you  are " 

"I  was  Captain  Marteau  when  with  the  regiment," 
returned  the  officer. 


THE  EAGLE'S  FLIGHT         191 

"I  thought  I  knew  you,  sir.  Yes,  I  remember  it 
all  now.  You  were  cut  down  at  the  bridge  at  Arcis." 

"Yes." 

"I,  too,  was  there.  I  was  one  of  the  few  who  man 
aged  to  get  away  alive.  But  I  did  not  run,  monsieur. 
I  did  not  go  back  until  the  order." 

"I  believe  it." 

"And  this  boy?" 

"He  is  a  young  comrade,  a  faithful  companion  of 
my  own." 

"And  you  are  come  back " 

"To  rejoin  the  regiment.  I  have  been  months  in 
an  Austrian  prison,  and  afterward,  ill." 

"Pass  freely,  monsieur.  You  rallied  us  with  the 
Eagle.  We  saw  it  go  into  the  river.  The  Emperor 
himself  commended  us,  those  who  were  left.  He 
said  we  should  have  another  Eagle,  but  alas,  we 
never  got  it." 

"Have  patience,"  said  Marteau.  "What  is  lost 
may  be  found." 

He  touched  the  small,  well-wrapped  parcel,  which 
even  in  his  agitation  he  had  not  allowed  to  fall  to 
the  ground.  The  soldier  looked  at  him  wonder- 
ingly. 

"You  mean " 

"Never  mind.  Be  silent.  Will  you  call  your  of 
ficer?" 

"Corporal  of  the  guard,"  shouted  the  sentry,  and, 
when  that  official  appeared,  the  lieutenant  in  com 
mand  of  the  gate  was  soon  summoned  through  the 
usual  military  channels. 


192    THE  EAGLE  OF  THE  EMPIRE 

"Monsieur,"  said  Marteau,  walking  up  to  him,  "do 
you  not  know  me?" 

"By  heaven!"  cried  the  officer,  after  a  long  stare, 
"is  it — it  is  Captain  Marteau!" 

"The  same." 

"We  thought  you  dead.  Your  name  is  honored 
in  the  regiment.  We  knew  how  you  rallied  the  line; 
how  you  took  the  Eagle;  how  you  threw  it  into  the 
river  rather  than  permit  it  to  be  taken.  We  thought 
you  were  killed." 

"My  life  was  spared,"  was  the  solemn  answer. 

"But  why  did  you  not  rejoin  the  regiment?" 

"I  was  in  prison  at  Salzburg,  and  for  some  reason 
was  overlooked,  perhaps  because  it  was  thought  I 
was  dead,  and  then  for  some  months  I  was  helpless, 
ill  of  a  horrible  fever.  It  was  only  two  months  ago 
that  I  was  set  free,  with  this  lad  here,  who  stood  be 
side  me  before  the  bridge  at  Arcis.  We  learned 
through  unofficial  sources  that  the  regiment  was 
here.  Having  nowhere  else  to  go,  I  came  back, 
and " 

"They  will  be  glad  to  see  you,"  said  the  officer. 
"The  regiment- lost  heavily.    It  was  almost  cut  to 
pieces  at  Arcis." 
'   "I  know." 

"But  many  officers  and  men  of  the  old  regiment 
have  come  back,  like  you,  from  Russia,  from  Prussia 
and  from  Austria,  where  they  had  been  held  prison 
ers.  They  will  be  glad  to  welcome  you  at  the  bar 
racks  yonder.  You  are  permitted  to  pass.  But  stop. 
I  must  do  my  duty.  What  have  you  in  that  parcel?" 

Marteau  looked  about  him,  moved  a  step  away 


THE  EAGLE'S  FLIGHT         193 

from  the  sentries  and  the  corporal  and  sergeant  of 
the  guard,  and  whispered  a  word  into  the  ear  of  the 
officer.  He  threw  up  his  hands  in  astonishment. 

"Mon  Dieu!"  he  exclaimed.    "Is  it  possible?" 

"The  same,"  said  Marteau,  "but  say  nothing  about 
it  until  I  have  seen  our  comrades." 

"Of  course  not." 

"And  that  carriage  and  four  that  just  passed?" 

"The  governor  of  the  town,  the  Marquis  d'Aume- 
nier,  the  new  commander  of  the  regiment." 

"I  see;  and  our  old  Colonel?" 

"Dead.  The  Major  commanding  the  first  battal 
ion  has  been  in  command  until  they  sent  this  old 
noble  down  here  yesterday." 

"And  the  lady?" 

"His  niece." 

"You  have  met  her?" 

"Not  I.  They  care  nothing  for  such  as  we.  He 
treats  us  as  if  we  were  of  the  scum  of  the  earth, 
dogs.  Oh,  if  only " 

"Hush,"  said  Marteau.    "It  is  dangerous." 

"I  know.  And  he  brought  with  him  an  English 
man,  one  of  the  Duke  of  Wellington's  officers." 

"Is  he  married  to  the  young  lady?" 

"Not  yet,  I  believe,  but  betrothed." 

"And  his  name?" 

"He  has  a  barbarous  name.  I  can't  pronounce  it. 
He  had  us  out  inspecting  us  yesterday — he  and  that 
Englishman.  Bah!  To  think  of  the  Fifth-of-the- 
Line  being  inspected  by  such  a  young  red-coated 
cockerel." 

The  veteran  spat  in  the  dust  as  the  soldier  had 


done  and  swore  roundly.  He  hated  the  red-coated 
English.  He  had  fought  them  before,  and  he  would 
like  nothing  better  than  to  fight  them  again. 

"Patience,"  said  Marteau. 

"Do  you  wish  to  go  to  headquarters  and  report 
yourself?  You  were  a  Major  on  the  Emperor's 
staff?" 

"A  Lieutenant-Colonel,  by  personal  appointment 
that  day  at  Arcis." 

"Well,  you  will  be  lucky  enough  if  they  make  you 
a  subaltern.  Look  at  me.  I  am  older  than  you. 
I  am  a  veteran  of  Italy  and  I  am  only  a  sub-lieuten 
ant,  I,  who  was  Captain  when  I  was  captured." 

"Patience,  my  friend,"  said  Marteau  again. 

"Here,"  said  the  officer,  hailing  a  cabriolet,  which 
suddenly  turned  the  corner. 

"I  have  no  money,"  said  Marteau  quickly. 

"The  King  pays  ill  enough,"  answered  the  officer, 
"but  what  I  have  is  ever  at  the  service  of  a  good 
comrade." 

He  assisted  Marteau  into  the  cabriolet,  allowed 
Pierre  to  climb  up  beside  him,  paid  the  driver  his 
fare,  and  bade  him  take  the  two  to  the  headquarters 
in  the  barracks. 


CHAPTER  XVII 

A  VETERAN  OF  THE  ARMY  OF  ITALY 

IT  was  noon  when  Marteau  presented  himself 
before  the  house  in  which  the  Major  of  the  first 
battalion,  an  old  veteran  named  Lestoype,  was  quar 
tered. 

"Who  shall  I  say  wants  to  see  him?"  asked  the 
orderly  before  the  door. 

"A  soldier  of  the  Empire,"  was  the  bold  answer, 
and  it  proved  an  open  sesame  to  the  astonished  or 
derly. 

Lestoype  was  writing  at  a  table,  but  he  looked  up 
when  Marteau  came  in.  He  stared  at  him  a  moment 
and  then  rose  to  his  feet. 

"I  report  myself  ready  for  duty,  Major,"  said  the 
young  officer,  saluting. 

"Good  God,  is  it  Marteau!"  exclaimed  the  Major. 

"The  same." 

"We  thought  you  dead." 

Rapidly  the  young  officer  explained  the  situation. 

"You  see,"  he  said  in  closing,  "I  survived  the 
Eagle." 

"Ah,  if  we  could  only  have  got  it  back!"  exclaimed 
the  Major. 

"It  is  back." 

"What  do  you  mean?" 

193 


196    THE  EAGLE  OF  THE  EMPIRE 

9 

"It  is  here." 

"I  don't  understand." 

"Look,"  cried  the  officer,  nervously  tearing  away 
the  wrappings  and  holding  up  his  precious  burden. 

The  Major  came  to  attention,  his  heels  clicked  to 
gether,  his  hand  went  up.  He  stared  at  the  Eagle. 

"Vive  I'Empereur"  he  said. 

"Vive  I'Empereur"  answered  the  other,  but  both 
of  them  spoke  in  whispers,  for  there  was  no  Em 
peror,  and  a  mention  of  the  name  was  treason  to 
the  King. 

"It  is  the  same?"  asked  the  Major,  taking  the  pre 
cious  emblem  in  his  hand  and  pressing  it  to  his 
heart. 

"The  very  same." 

"But  how?" 

"The  boy  here  and  I  marked  the  spot  where  it  fell. 
We  took  bearings,  as  a  sailor  would  say;  we  took 
them  independently,  and  when  we  had  a  chance  to 
compare  them  we  found  that  we  agreed  exactly. 
When  I  was  released  from  prison  and  discharged 
from  the  hospital  as  a  convalescent,  we  went  back  to 
Arcis,  to  the  bridge,  to  the  river  side.  The  boy  here 
is  an  expert  swimmer.  The  river  was  low.  He  dove 
into  the  icy  waters  again  and  again  until  he  found 
it.  We  were  most  circumspect  in  our  movements. 
No  one  observed  us.  I  wrapped  it  up,  concealed  it 
carefully,  learned  that  the  regiment  was  here,  and  I 
surrender  it  into  your  hands." 

"It  is  a  shame,"  began  Lestoype  gloomily  at  last, 
laying  the  Eagle  gently  down  on  his  desk. 

"What  is  a  shame?" 


THE  EAGLE'S  FLIGHT         197 

"The  order." 

"What  order?" 

"The  Eagles  of  all  the  regiments  and  ships  are  to 
be  sent  to  Paris  to  be  destroyed." 

"Impossible!" 

"Nevertheless,  it  is  true.  They  have  taken  them 
wherever  they  could  lay  hands  on  them.  It  has 
almost  caused  a  revolt." 

"And  are  you  going  to  send  this  Eagle  to  Paris?" 
asked  Marteau  threateningly.  "This  Eagle  for  which 
I  fought,  this  Eagle  which  I  rescued  from  the  Elster 
and  the  Aube,  for  which  hundreds  of  brave  men 
have  died,  this  Eagle  which  has  been  in  the  fore 
front  of  every  battle  in  which  the  regiment  took 
part  since  the  Emperor  gave  it  into  our  keeping 
before  Ulm?" 

"What  can  I  do?" 

"I  will  throw  it  into  the  Isere  first.  I  will  destroy 
it  myself  before  that  happens,"  cried  Marteau, 
snatching  it  up  and  pressing  it  to  his  heart.  "I 
have  taken  no  oaths.  I  am  still  the  Emperor's 
man." 

"Not  so  loud,"  said  Lestoype  warningly.  "The 
men  of  the  regiment  may  not  all  be  true.  You  may 
be  overheard." 

"You  and  all  the  others  have  taken  the  oath  of 
allegiance  to  the  King?" 

"What  else  was  there  to  do?  Soldiering  is  my 
trade.  They  offered  us  commissions;  the  Empire 
was  dead ;  the  Emperor  banished.  It  was  a  living, 
at  any  rate." 

"But  I  am  free,  I  am  not  bound." 


198    THE  EAGLE  OF  THE  EMPIRE 

"You  must,  you  will  take  the  oath,"  urged  Les- 
toype. 

"How  if  he  should  come  back?" 

"He  will  not  come  back." 

"Will  he  not?  It  is  whispered  everywhere,"  said 
Marteau.  "I  have  not  passed  an  old  soldier  who 
did  not  voice  the  hope.  It's  in  the  air.  'When  the 
violets  bloom/  they  say.  Even  the  peasants  whisper 
it.  The  imperial  purple  flower He  will  return." 

"God  grant  it  may  be  so." 

"And  we  shall  be  ready  for  him,  we  who  have  not 
taken  the  oath,  and  who " 

"I  am  afraid  I  shall  be  a  forsworn  man,  in  that 
case,"  said  the  veteran,  smiling  grimly.  "Should 
the  Emperor  again  set  foot  in  France  his  presence 
would  absolve  us  from  all  vows.  I  only  serve  under 
the  King's  colors  because  no  others  fly  in  France." 

"Be  it  so." 

"And  you  will  be  with  us  again  in  the  regiment?" 

"How  can  I?" 

"Be  advised,"  said  the  old  soldier,  laying  his  hand 
upon  the  arm  of  the  younger,  "we  must  keep  to 
gether.  We  must  keep  our  regimental  organizations 
intact.  The  army  must  be  ready  for  him.  Take  the 
oath  as  well  nigh  every  soldier  high  and  low  in 
France  has  done,  and " 

"Well,  I  shall  see.  Meanwhile,  the  Eagle  there. 
You  won't  give  it  up?" 

"Give  it  up!"  laughed  Lestoype.  "I  feel  just  as 
you  do  about  it,  but  we  must  conceal  it.  The  Sev 
enth,  Labedoyere's  regiment,  in  garrison  here,  con- 


THE  EAGLE'S  FLIGHT         199 

cealed  ^heir  Eagle.  At  least  it  has  not  been  found. 
There  was  a  terrible  to  do  about  it." 

"Do  you  vouch  for  the  officer  at  the  main  gate? 
I  had  to  tell  him  in  order  to  be  passed.  I  know  him 
but  slightly." 

"The  Sub-Lieutenant  Drehon." 

"He  is  safe?" 

"Beyond  doubt.    Meanwhile,  you  require " 

"Everything,"  said  Marteau  simply. 

"The  King's  paymasters  are  a  long  time  in  com 
ing.  We  are  left  to  make  shift  as  best  we  can.  But 
I  am  not  yet  penniless,"  returned  the  old  Major. 
He  threw  a  purse  on  the  table.  "You  will  be  my 
guest.  With  these  you  can  get  proper  clothes  and 
uniform." 

"And  the  boy?" 

"I  will  turn  him  over  to  the  men.  They  will  be 
glad  to  welcome  him.  He  should  have  the  Legion 
of  Honor  for  rescuing  the  Eagle.  But  stop." 

"What  is  it?" 

"He  won't  talk?" 

"I  have  tested  that  lad.  He  will  be  as  close- 
mouthed  as  the  grave.  You  understand,  Pierre,  you 
are  not  to  say  a  word  about  the  Eagle  until  I  give 
you  leave,"  said  Marteau  to  his  young  comrade. 
"About  our  other  adventures  you  can  tell." 

"I  understand.  Monsieur  knows  that  I  can  be 
silent." 

"I  know.  Good-by.  I  shall  see  you  to-morrow. 
Now,"  began  Marteau,  as  the  orderly  who  had  been 
summoned  had  taken  Pierre  away  with  instructions 
to  see  that  he  was  clothed  and  fed,  "let  me  ask  some 


200    THE  EAGLE  OF  THE  EMPIRE 

questions.    Who  was  in  command  of  the  regiment?" 

"I  was  until  yesterday." 

"And  yesterday?" 

"The  King  sent  down  an  old  officer  to  take  the 
command,  a  Lieutenant-Colonel." 

"And  the  Colonel?" 

"Monsieur  d'Artois." 

"So  that " 

"The  Lieutenant-Colonel  commands  the  regiment, 
which  is  now  known  as  the  Regiment  Dauphine, 
the  Comte  d'Artois'  own,"  said  the  Major,  with  fine 
scorn.  "What  a  name  to  take  the  place  of  the  Fifth- 
of-the-Line,"  he  added. 

"And  Monsieur  d'Aumenier?" 

"Oh,  he  seems  harmless  enough.  He  is  a  trained 
soldier,  too,  of  royalist  days  before  the  Empire.  He 
even  told  me  he  had  been  at  the  school  at  Brienne 
when  the  Emperor  was  a  student  there." 

"And  who  is  with  him?" 

"His  niece,  the  Countess  Laure  d'Aumenier,  en 
gaged  to  that  young  English  officer." 

"And  what  of  him?" 

"Well  enough  for  an  Englishman,  I  suppose," 
was  the  careless  answer.  "We  were  paraded  yes 
terday  and  the  young  Englishman  inspected  us,  the 
lady  looking  on.  Actually  my  gorge  rose,  as  he 
handled  our  muskets,  criticized  our  drill.  I  heard 
some  of  the  old  mustaches  of  the  regiment  say  they 
would  like  to  put  a  bayonet  through  him,  and,  to 
be  frank,  I  should  like  it  myself.  I  fought  against 
these  English  in  Spain.  There's  no  love  lost  be 
tween  us." 


THE  EAGLE'S  FLIGHT         201 

"Did  he  disparage  the  regiment?" 

"Oh,  no,  quite  the  contrary.  He  was  more  than 
complimentary,  but  I  hate  them.  His  father  is  here, 
too." 

"I  see.    When  is  the  marriage  to  take  place?" 

"How  do  I  know?  I  was  surprised  when  the  old 
Marquis  volunteered  any  information  to  the  likes  of 
me." 

"I  must  see  the  Marquis  at  once;  with  your  per 
mission,  of  course." 

"You  have  it,"  returned  the  other,  smiling.  "You 
are  not  yet  reinstated  in  the  regiment,  and,  so  far  as 
I  am  concerned,  you  are  free  to  go  and  come  as  you 
will" 

"He  is  not  here  now,  I  believe?" 

"No.  He  turned  over  the  command  to  me  tem 
porarily.  He  is  driving  out  into  the  country,  going 
out  to  the  gap  to  reconnoiter  for  himself,  I  take  it, 
but  he  will  be  back  before  nightfall,  and  meanwhile 
you  have  much  to  do.  We  want  to  get  you  well  fed, 
to  get  some  good  French  wine  into  you,  to  put  the 
blood  into  your  veins  and  color  into  your  cheeks,  to 
give  you  a  bath,  to  get  you  clothing — everything," 
said  the  generous  old  veteran. 


CHAPTER   XVIII 

ALMOST  A   GENTLEMAN 

"WILL  you  tell  the  Lieutenant-Colonel,  the  Mar 
quis  d'Aumenier,  that  an  officer  returned  from  the 
wars  desires  to  see  him?"  said  Marteau  to  the  foot 
man  who  answered  the  door  at  the  Governor's 
palace. 

"So  many  wandering  officers  want  to  see  His  Ex 
cellency,"  said  the  servant  superciliously,  "that  I 
have  instructions  to  require  further  enlightenment 
before  I  admit  any  to  his  presence." 

"Say  to  your  master,"  replied  the  other,  his  face 
flushing  at  the  insolence  of  the  servant,  "that  one 
from  the  village  of  Aumenier  craves  an  audience  on 
matters  of  great  importance." 

"And  even  that  will  scarcely  be  sufficient,"  began 
the  lackey. 

"Enough!"  thundered  Marteau.  "Carry  my  mes 
sage  to  him  instantly,"  he  said  fiercely,  "or  I  shall 
throw  you  aside  and  carry  it  myself." 

The  servant  looked  at  him  a  moment,  and  not 
relishing  what  he  saw,  turned  on  his  heel  and  dis 
appeared. 

"His  Excellency  will  see  you,  sir,"  he  said,  in  a 
manner  considerably  more  respectful  when  he  re 
turned  a  few  moments  later.  "This  way,  sir.  His 

202 


THE  EAGLE'S  FLIGHT         203 

Excellency  is  in  the  drawing-room,  having  finished 
his  dinner.  What  name  shall  I  announce?"  he 
asked,  his  hand  on  the  door. 

"Announce  no  one,"  was  the  curt  reply.  "Open 
the  door.  I  will  make  myself  known." 

The  lackey  threw  open  the  door.  Marteau  en 
tered  the  room  and  closed  the  door  behind  him.  The 
drawing-room  of  the  Governor's  palace  was  bril 
liantly  illuminated.  The  Governor  was  receiving 
the  officers  of  the  garrison  and  the  principal  inhabi 
tants  of  the  city  that  night,  but  it  was  yet  early  in 
the  evening,  and  none  of  them  had  arrived.  The 
young  officer  had  purposely  planned  his  visit  at  that 
hour,  in  order  that  he  might  have  a  few  moments' 
conversation  with  the  Marquis  before  the  invited 
guests  arrived. 

There  were  five  people  gathered  about  the  fire 
place,  all  engrossed  in  pleasant  conversation  ap 
parently.  It  was  the  second  of  March,  and  the 
weather  made  the  fire  blazing  on  the  hearth  very 
welcome.  Four  of  the  five  people  in  the  room  were 
men;  the  fifth  person  was  a  woman.  It  was  she 
whose  attention  was  first  aroused  by  the  sound  of 
the  closing  of  the  door.  She  faced  about,  her  glance 
fell  upon  the  newcomer,  a  cup  which  she  held  in  her 
hand  fell  to  the  floor,  the  precious  china  splintering 
into  a  thousand  fragments,  her  face  turned  as  white 
as  the  lace  of  her  low  evening  gown. 

"Marteau!"  she  exclaimed  in  almost  an  agonized 
whisper. 

"Mademoiselle,"  answered  the  soldier,  bowing 
profoundly. 


204    THE  EAGLE  OF  THE  EMPIRE 

He  was  beautifully  dressed  in  the  nearest  approach 
to  the  latest  fashion  that  the  best  tailor  in  Grenoble 
could  offer — thanks  to  the  Major's  purse^and,  al 
though  his  most  becoming  attire  was  not  a  uniform, 
his  every  movement  betrayed  the  soldier,  as  his 
every  look  bespoke  the  man. 

"And  who  have  we  here?"  asked  the  oldest  man 
of  the  group,  the  Marquis  d'Aumenier  himself,  the 
attention  of  all  being  attracted  to  the  newcomer  by 
the  crash  of  the  broken  china  and  the  low  exclama 
tion  of  the  young  woman  which  none  had  made  out 
clearly. 

"By  gad!"  bellowed  out  with  tremendous  voice  a 
stout  old  man,  whose  red  face  and  heavy  body  con 
trasted  surprisingly  with  the  pale  face,  the  lean,  thin 
figure  of  the  old  Marquis,  "I  am  damned  if  it  isn't 
the  young  Frenchman  that  held  the  chateau  with 
us.  Lad,"  he  cried,  stepping  forward  and  stretching 
out  his  hand,  "I  am  glad  to  see  you  alive.  I  asked 
after  you,  as  soon  as  I  came  back  to  France,  but  they 
told  me  you  were  dead." 

"On  the  contrary,  as  you  see,  sir,  I  am  very  much 
alive,  and  at  Sir  Gervaise  Yeovil's  service  as  al 
ways,"  said  Marteau,  meeting  the  Englishman's  hand 
with  his  own,  touched  by  the  other's  hearty  greeting, 
whose  genuineness  no  one  could  doubt.  "And  this 
gentleman?"  he  went  on,  turning  to  a  young  replica 
of  the  older  man,  who  had  stepped  to  his  father's 
side. 

"Is  my  son,  Captain  Frank  Yeovil,  of  King 
George's  Fifty-second  Light  Infantry.  By  gad,  I 
am  glad  to  have  him  make  your  acquaintance.  He 


THE  EAGLE'S  FLIGHT         205 

is  going  to  marry  the  Marquis'  niece  here — your  old 
friend — when  they  can  settle  on  a  day.  You  had 
thoughts  in  that  direction  yourself,  I  remember,"  he 
went  on,  in  his  bluff  way,  "but  I  suppose  you  have 
got  bravely  over  them  by  now,"  he  laughed. 

"I  have  resigned  myself  to  the  inevitable,  mon 
sieur,"  answered  Marteau  with  a  calmness  that  he 
did  not  feel. 

He  did  not  dare  to  look  at  the  Countess  Laure  as 
he  spoke.  He  could  not  have  commanded  himself 
if  he  had  done  so.  His  lips  were  compressed  and 
his  face  was  paler  than  before.  The  girl  saw  it.  She 
had  watched  him,  fascinated.  The  Englishman, 
young,  frank,  sunny-haired,  gallant,  stepped  up  to 
him,  shook  him  by  his  unwilling  hand. 

"I  am  glad  to  know  you,"  he  said.  "I  have  heard 
how  you  saved  my  betrothed's  life  and  honor,  and 
held  the  chateau.  I  have  longed  to  meet  you,  to 
thank  you." 

"And  I  you,"  said  Marteau.  "You  English  are 
frank.  I  shall  be  likewise,"  he  added.  "It  was  not 
thus  I  wanted  to  meet  you,  monsieur,  not  in  a  draw 
ing-room,  in  this  peaceful  dress,  but — on  the  field." 

"I  understand,"  said  the  Englishman,  sobered  a 
little  by  the  other's  seriousness.  "And  if  the  war 
had  continued  perhaps  we  might  have  settled  the — 
er" — his  eyes  sought  those  of  his  fiancee,  but  she  was 
not  looking  at  him — "our  differences,"  he  added,  "in 
the  old  knightly  way,  but  now " 

"Now  it  is  impossible,"  assented  Marteau,  "since 
my  Emperor  and  I  are  both  defeated." 

"Monsieur,"  broke  in  the  high,  rather  sharp  voice 


206    THE  EAGLE  OF  THE  EMPIRE 

of  the  old  Marquis,  "that  is  a  title  which  is  no  longer 
current  in  France.  As  loyal  subjects  of  the  King 
the  word  is  banished — like  the  man." 

"I  am  but  new  to  France,  Monsieur  le  Marquis, 
and  have  not  yet  learned  to  avoid  the  ancient  habit." 

"And  yet  you  are  a  Frenchman,"  commented  the 
Marquis  dryly.  "You  said  you  came  from  Aume- 
nier.  I  did  not  catch  your  name,  sir?" 

"Marteau,  at  your  service." 

"One  of  the  loyal  Marteaux?" 

"The  last  one,  sir." 

"And  pray  why  are  you  new  to  France?" 

"I  have  but  two  months  since  been  released  from 
an  Austrian  prison  and  an  Austrian  hospital." 

"I  made  inquiry,"  said  the  Countess  suddenly,  the 
tones  of  her  voice  bespeaking  her  deep  agitation,  "I 
caused  the  records  to  be  searched.  They  said  you 
were  dead,  that  you  had  been  killed  at  the  bridge 
of  Arcis  with  the  rest  of  your  regiment." 

"I  was  unfortunate  enough  to  survive  my  com 
rades  as  you  see,  mademoiselle,"  said  Marteau. 

"And  I  thank  God  for  that,"  said  the  Countess 
Laure.  "I  have  never  forgot  what  you  did  for  me, 
and " 

"Nor  has  the  memory  of  your  interposition  which 
twice  saved  my  life  escaped  from  my  mind  for  a 
single  insifcant,  mademoiselle." 

"Yes,  it  was  very  fine,  no  doubt,  on  the  part  of 
both  of  you,"  said  Captain  Yeovil,  a  little  impa 
tiently,  because  he  did  not  quite  see  the  cause  of 
all  this  perturbation  on  the  part  of  his  betrothed; 
"but  you  are  quits  now,  and  for  my  part " 


THE  EAGLE'S  FLIGHT         207 

"What  I  did  for  mademoiselle  is  nothing,  mon 
sieur.  I  shall  always  be  in  her  debt,"  replied  the 
Frenchman. 

"Monsieur  St.  Laurent,"  said  the  Marquis,  turn 
ing  to  the  other  occupant  of  the  room,  "my  new 
adjutant,  Monsieur  Marteau,"  he  added  in  explana 
tion,  "was  there  not  a  Marteau  borne  on  the  rolls  of 
the  regiment?  I  think  I  saw  the  name  when  I 
looked  yesterday,  and  it  attracted  me  because  I 
knew  it." 

"Yes,  your  Excellency,"  said  St.  Laurent,  "he  was 
a  Captain  when  he  was  detached." 

"You  were  on  service  elsewhere,  Monsieur  mon 
Capitaine?"  asked  the  Marquis. 

"I  was  a  Lieutenant-Colonel,  your  Excellency." 

"And  where  and  when?" 

"On  the  day  at  Arcis.  Made  so  by" — he  threw 
up  his  head — "by  him  who  cannot  be  named." 

"Ah!  Quite  so,"  said  the  Marquis,  helping  him 
self  to  a  pinch  of  snuff  from  a  jeweled  box,  quite 
after  the  fashion  of  the  old  regime.  He  shut  the 
box  and  tapped  it  gently.  "There  is,  I  believe,  a 
vacancy  in  the  regiment,  a  Captaincy.  My  gracious 
King,  whom  God  and  the  saints  preserve,  leaves  the 
appointment  to  me.  It  is  at  your  service.  I  regret 
that  I  can  offer  you  no  higher  rank.  I  shall  be 
glad  to  have  you  in  my  command,"  he  went  on.  "It 
is  meet  and  right  that  you  should  be  there.  I  and 
my  house  haye  been  well  served  for  generations  by 
your  house." 

"I  regret  that  I  cannot  accept  your  offer." 

"Why  not?"  asked  the  Marquis  haughtily.    "It  is 


208    THE  EAGLE  OF  THE  EMPIRE 

not  to  every  wandering  officer  that  I  would  have 
made  it." 

"I  should  have  to  swear  allegiance  to  your  King, 
monsieur,  and  that  I " 

"Enough,"  said  the  Marquis  imperiously.  "The 
offer  is  withdrawn.  You  may  go,  sir." 

"I  have  a  duty  to  discharge  before  I  avail  myself 
of  your  courteous  permission,"  said  the  young  man 
firmly. 

"My  uncle,"  said  the  girl,  "you  cannot  dismiss 
Monsieur  Jean  Marteau  in  that  cavalier  fashion. 
It  is  due  to  him  that  I  am  here." 

"No,  curse  me,  Marquis,"  burst  out  Sir  Gervaise, 
wagging  his  big  head  at  the  tall,  French  noble, 
"you  don't  know  how  much  you  owe  to  that  young 
man.  Why,  even  I  would  not  have  been  here  but 
for  him." 

"I  am  deeply  sensible  to  the  obligations  under 
which  he  has  laid  me,  both  through  the  Comtesse 
Laure,  and  through  you,  old  friend.  I  have  just 
endeavored  to  discharge  them.  If  there  be  any 

other  way Monsieur  is  recently  from  prison — 

perhaps  the  state  of  his  finances — if  he  would  permit 
me "  continued  the  Marquis,  who  was  not  with 
out  generous  impulses,  it  seemed. 

"Sir,"  interrupted  Marteau,  "I  thank  you,  but  I 
came  here  to  confer,  not  to  receive,  benefits." 

"To  confer,  monsieur?" 

"We  Marteaux  have  been  accustomed  to  render 
service,  as  the  Marquis  will  recollect,"  he  said 
proudly. 

He  drew  forth  a  soiled,  worn  packet  of  papers. 


THE  EAGLE'S  FLIGHT         209 

Because  they  had  represented  nothing  of  value  to 
his  captors  they  had  not  been  taken.  They  had  never 
left  his  person  except  during  his  long  period  of  ill 
ness,  when  they  had  been  preserved  by  a  faithful 
official  of  the  hospital  and  returned  to  him  after 
ward. 

"Allow  me  to  return  these  to  the  Marquis,"  he 
said,  tendering  them. 

"And  what  are  these?"  asked  the  old  man. 

"The  title  deeds  to  the  Aumenier  estates,  mon 


sieur." 


"The  grant  is  waste  paper,"  said  the  Marquis  con 
temptuously. 

"Not  so,"  was  the  quick  answer.  "I  have  learned 
that  the  acts  of  the  late — of — those  which  were 
duly  and  properly  registered  before  the — present 
king  ascended  the  throne  are  valid.  The  estates  are 
legally  mine.  You  reject  them.  I "  he  hesi 
tated,  he  stepped  over  to  the  young  woman — "I  re 
turn  them  to  you,  mademoiselle.  Her  dowry,  mon 
sieur,"  he  added,  facing  the  Englishman,  as  he  laid 
the  packet  down  on  the  table  by  the  side  of  the 
Countess  Laure. 

"Well,  that's  handsome  of  you,"  said  the  latter 
heartily. 

"I  cannot  take  them,"  ejaculated  the  young 
woman,  just  a  touch  of  contempt  for  her  obtuse 

English  lover  in  her  voice.  "I They  are  legally 

his.  We  shall  have  no  need " 

"Nonsense,"  burst  out  the  young  English  officer. 
"They  are  rightfully  yours.  They  were  taken  from 
you  by  an  usurper  who " 


210    THE  EAGLE  OF  THE  EMPIRE 

"Monsieur!"  cried  Marteau  sharply. 

"Well,  sir?" 

"He  who  cannot  be  named  by  order  of  the  king 
is  not  to  be  slandered  by  order  of " 

"Whose  order?" 

"Mine,"  said  Marteau. 

"Indeed,"  answered  the  Englishman,  his  face 
flushing  as  he  laid  his  hand  on  his  sword — he  was 
wearing  his  uniform. 

"Steady,  steady,"  cried  the  old  Baronet,  inter 
posing  between  the  two.  "The  lad's  right.  If  we 
can't  name  Bonaparte,  it  is  only  fair  that  we 
shouldn't  abuse  him.  And  the  girl's  right,  too.  You 
have  no  need  of  any  such  dowry.  Thank  God  I 
have  got  acres  and  pounds  of  my  own  for  the  two 
of  you  and  all  that  may  come  after." 

"It  strikes  me,  gentlemen,"  said  the  Marquis 
coolly,  "that  the  disposal  of  the  affair  is  mine.  Mar 
teau  is  right  and  I  was  wrong.  Perhaps  he  has 
some  claim  to  the  estate.  But,  however  that  may 
be,  he  does  well  to  surrender  it  to  its  ancient  over 
lord.  I  accept  it  as  my  due.  I  shall  see  that  he 
does  not  suffer  for  his  generosity." 

"And  does  monsieur  think  that  he  could  compen 
sate  me  if  he  should  give  me  the  whole  of  France 
for  the  loss  of " 

"Good  God!"  said  the  keen  witted,  keen  eyed  old 
Marquis,  seeing  Marteau's  glance  toward  the  young 
woman.  "Are  you  still  presuming  to " 

"As  man  looks  toward  the  sun  that  gives  him 
life,"  said  the  young  Frenchman,  "so  I  look  toward 
mademoiselle.  But  have  no  fear,  monsieur,"  he  went 


THE  EAGLE'S  FLIGHT         211 

on  to  the  English  dragoon,  "you  have  won  her  heart. 
I  envy  you  but " 

"Marteau!"  protested  the  Countess,  the  anguish 
in  her  soul  speaking  in  her  voice  again. 

How  different  the  appearance  of  this  slender,  pale, 
delicate  young  Frenchman  from  the  coarser-grained 
English  soldier  to  whom  she  had  plighted  her  troth, 
but  to  whom  she  had  not  given  her  heart.  There 
was  no  doubt  in  her  mind  as  to  where  her  affections 
pointed.  Some  of  the  pride  of  race,  of  high  birth 
and  ancient  lineage,  had  been  blown  away  in  the 
dust  of  the  revolution.  She  had  played  too  long 
with  the  plain  people  on  the  ancient  estate.  She 
had  been  left  too  much  to  herself.  She  had  seen 
Marteau  in  splendid  and  heroic  roles.  She  saw  him 
so  now.  She  had  been  his  companion  and  associate 
in  her  youth.  But  of  all  this  none  knew,  and  she 
was  fain  not  to  admit  it  even  to  herself. 

"Have  you  anything  more  to  communicate,  Mar 
teau,  or  to  surrender?"  asked  the  Marquis  coldly. 

To  do  him  justice,  any  service  Marteau  might 
render  him  was  quite  in  accord  with  the  old  noble's 
idea  of  what  was  proper  and  with  the  ancient  feudal 
custom  by  which  the  one  family  had  served  the 
other  for  so  long. 

"I  have  yet  something  else  to  give  up." 

"Another  estate?" 

"A  title." 

"Ah,  and  what  title,  pray,  and  what  interest  have 
I  in  it?"  asked  the  Marquis  sarcastically. 

"I  have  here,"  said  the  young  Frenchman,  draw 
ing  forth  another  legal  document,  "a  patent  of 


212    THE  EAGLE  OF  THE  EMPIRE 

nobility  duly  signed  and  attested.  It  was  delivered 
to  me  by  special  courier  the  day  after  the  battle  of 
Montereau." 

"And  you  were  created  what,  sir?" 

"Count  d'Aumenier,  at  your  service,  monsieur." 

"Is  this  an  insult?"  exclaimed  the  Marquis,  his 
pale  face  reddening. 

"Sir,"  said  the  young  man  proudly,  "it  was  given 
me  by  a  man  who  has  made  more  men  noble,  and 
established  them,  than  all  the  kings  of  France  be 
fore  him.  No  power  on  earth  could  better  make  me 
Count  or  Prince  or  King,  even." 

"Sir!    Sir!"  protested  the  Marquis  furiously. 

"I  value  this  gift  but  I  do  not  need  it  now.  I  sur 
render  it  into  your  hands.  You  may  destroy  it. 
I  shall  formally  and  before  a  notary  renounce  it. 
It  shall  be  as  if  it  had  not  been." 

The  Marquis  took  the  paper,  unfolded  it  deliber 
ately  amid  a  breathless  silence  and  glanced  rapidly 
over  it. 

"Even  so,"  he  admitted. 

He  looked  up  at  the  gallant,  magnanimous  young 
Frenchman  with  more  interest  and  more  care  than 
before;  he  noticed  how  pale  and  haggard  and  weak 
he  appeared.  He  appreciated  it  for  the  first  time. 
A  little  change  came  over  the  hard,  stern  face  of 
the  old  noble.  He,  too,  had  suffered;  he,  too,  had 
been  hungry  and  weak  and  weary;  he,  too,  had 
eaten  his  heart  out  longing  for  what  seemed  impos 
sible.  After  all,  they  had  been  friends  and  more 
than  friends,  these  ancient  houses,  the  high  born 
and  the  peasant  born,  for  many  generations. 


THE  EAGLE'S  FLIGHT          213 

"St.  Laurent,"  he  said  sharply,  "we  have  been 
remiss.  Monsieur  is  ill,  a  chair  for  him.  Laure,  a 
glass  of  wine." 

Indeed,  the  constraint  that  Marteau  had  put  upon 
himself  had  drawn  heavily  upon  his  scanty  reserve 
of  nervous  force.  St.  Laurent  did  not  like  the  task, 
but  there  was  that  in  the  Marquis's  voice  which 
warned  him  not  to  hesitate.  He  offered  a  chair, 
into  which  the  young  man  sank.  From  a  decanter 
on  the  table  the  girl,  her  hand  trembling,  poured 
out  a  glass  of  wine.  Swiftly  she  approached  him, 
she  bent  over  him,  moved  by  a  sudden  impulse, 
she  sank  on  her  knees  by  his  side  and  tendered  him 
the  glass. 

"On  your  knees,  Laure!"  protested  the  young 
Englishman.  "It  is  not  meet  that— 

"In  gratitude  to  a  man  who  has  served  me  well 
and  who  has  set  us  all  a  noble  example  of  renunci 
ation  by  his  surrender  of  land  and  title  here  in  this 
very  room." 

"Rise,  mademoiselle,"  said  Marteau,  taking  the 
glass  from  her  still  trembling  hand.  "The  honor  is 
too  great  for  me.  I  cannot  remain  seated  un 
less " 

"Very  pretty,"  said  the  Marquis  coolly  as  young 
Captain  Yeovil  helped  his  reluctant  young  betrothed 
to  her  feet.  "Your  health,  monsieur,"  he  continued, 
taking  up  his  own  glass.  "By  all  the  saints,  sir," 
he  added  as  he  drained  his  glass,  "you  have  acted 
quite  like  a  gentleman." 

"  'Quite/  my  uncle?"  quoted  the  young  woman 
with  deep  emphasis  on  the  word. 


214    THE  EAGLE  OF  THE  EMPIRE 

"Well,  what  more  could  I  say  to  a  Marteau?" 

"What  more  indeed,"  said  the  young  officer,  smil 
ing  in  proud  disdain. 

"Damme  if  I  wouldn't  have  left  the  'quite'  out," 
muttered  the  elder  Yeovil. 

"I  have  your  leave  to  withdraw  now,  monsieur?" 
asked  the  young  officer.  "You  dismissed  me  a  mo 
ment  since." 

"Now  I  ask  you  to  stay.  By  the  cross  of  St. 
Louis,"  said  the  old  Marquis,  fingering  his  order, 
"I  am  proud  of  you,  young  man.  Take  the  commis 
sion.  I  should  like  them  to  see  what  sort  of  men 
we  breed  in  Champagne  and " 

"I  feel  I  shall  be  unequal  to  it.  I  must  with 
draw." 

"Where  are  you  staying?"  asked  the  young  woman 
eagerly. 

"With  Major  Lestoype,  an  old  comrade." 

"And  I  shall  see  you  once  more?" 

"I  cannot  hope  to  see  mademoiselle  again.  Our 
ways  lie  apart." 

"Enough,"  said  the  Countess  imperiously.  "It 
rests  with  me  and  I  will  see  you  again.  Meanwhile, 
au  revoir." 

She  offered  her  hand  to  the  young  Frenchman. 
He  seized  it  eagerly. 

"Monsieur  allows  the  privilege  to  an  old  and 
faithful  servitor?"  he  said  to  the  young  English 
man,  who  stood  jealously  looking  on,  and  then,  not 
waiting  for  an  answer,  he  bent  low  and  pressed 
his  lips  upon  it. 

Did  that  hand  tremble  in  his  own?    Was  there 


THE  EAGLE'S  FLIGHT         215 

an  upward  movement  as  if  to  press  it  against  his 
lips?  He  could  not  tell.  He  did  not  dare  to  specu 
late.  The  Countess  closed  her  eyes  and  when  she 
opened  them  again  he  was  gone. 


CHAPTER   XIX 

THE  GREAT  HONOR  ROLL 

AT  midnight,  had  there  been  anyone  abroad  in 
the  garrison  to  observe  them,  a  number  of  men, 
heavily  cloaked,  might  have  been  seen  drifting 
through  the  torrential  rain  that  was  falling,  toward 
the  quarters  occupied  by  Major  Lestoype.  They 
were  expected,  evidently,  for  they  were  admitted 
without  hesitation  by  the  carefully  selected  old 
soldiers  who  kept  the  door.  The  usual  servants 
had  been  dismissed  to  their  quarters,  and  their  places 
were  taken  by  certain  tried  and  trusted  veterans 
of  the  regiment. 

In  the  quarters  of  Major  Lestoype  was  a  spacious 
and  lofty  hall.  Thither  the  new  arrivals  were  con 
ducted.  There  was  an  air  of  great  secrecy  about 
their  movements.  The  occasion  was  evidently  felt 
to  be  a  solemn  one  by  all.  Major  Lestoype  was  not 
yet  present.  As  they  threw  off  their  cloaks  it  was 
seen  that  they  were  soldiers  of  the  Fifth  regiment 
of  the  line,  to  continue  to  give  it  the  familiar  title. 
Each  one  was  arrayed  in  his  best  parade  uniform. 
They  were  of  every  rank  below  that  of  Major,  and 
included  among  them  were  several  non-commis 
sioned  officers  and  a  few  private  soldiers  of  reputa 
tion  and  standing.  The  men  were  of  all  ages  too, 

216 


THE  EAGLE'S  FLIGHT         217 

although  the  non-commissioned  officers  and  privates 
were,  in  every  instance,  veterans.  These  last  stood 
in  a  little  group  by  themselves,  although  there  was 
no  attempt  on  the  part  of  the  officers  to  emphasize 
any  difference  in  rank  on  such  an  occasion. 

There  were,  perhaps,  a  hundred  men  in  the  com 
pany  when  all  had  been  assembled.  They  had  been 
chosen  with  the  utmost  care.  The  list  included  all 
the  officers,  except  certain  new  officers  who  had 
been  assigned  to  the  regiment  from  other  regiments 
of  whom  Major  Lestoype  and  the  veteran  captains 
were  not  sure.  Certain  other  young  officers,  sons 
or  connections  of  influential  royalists  now  in  high 
favor  with  King  Louis  XVIII,  who  had  also  been 
assigned  to  the  regiment  were  of  course  excluded. 

Those  who  were  there  were  known  men,  all  tried 
and  true.  Major  Lestoype  himself  had  been  a  pri 
vate  when  the  Fifth-of-the-Line  had  followed  the 
Emperor,  then  but  General  Bonaparte,  into  Italy 
on  that  first  and  most  marvelous  of  the  campaigns 
of  the  great  Captain.  He  had  seen  service  in  Egypt 
and  had  been  present  with  the  First  Consul  at  the 
decisive  battle  at  Marengo.  Into  his  hand  as  a 
non-commissioned  officer  thereafter  the  newly  made 
Emperor  had  delivered  the  Eagle.  Naturally,  he 
experienced  toward  it  almost  the  feeling  of  a  father 
for  his  child. 

Every  other  man  there  was  associated  in  some  way 
with  that  imperial  emblem,  their  regimental  stand 
ard.  As  has  been  said,  it  was  not  the  flag  for  which 
they  cared;  flags  were  of  perishable  silk  or  cloth; 
they  could  be  and  often  were  destroyed  in  battle. 


218    THE  EAGLE  OF  THE  EMPIRE 

They  could  be  replaced.  Some  regiments  stripped 
the  colors  from  the  poles  before  they  went  into  ac 
tion.  It  was  the  Eagle  that  was  precious  and  to 
be  defended.  It  was  the  Eagle  that  was  in  their 
hearts  almost  eternal. 

It  was  to  receive  their  Eagle  again  that  these  of 
ficers  and  men  had  been  summoned.  They  did  not 
know  that  definitely  yet,  but  some  whisper  of  it 
had  been  in  the  air.  They  were  on  the  qui  vive  for 
the  developments  of  the  evening  and  full  of  rest 
less  excitement.  When  the  great  door  was  at  last 
thrown  open  and  the  Senior  Captain  caught  sight 
of  the  tall,  lean  figure  of  his  commander,  he  in 
stantly  came  to  attention  and  said  sharply: 

"Gentlemen,  attention.  The  Major  Command 
ing." 

To  be  sure,  Lestoype  no  longer  occupied  that  po 
sition.  His  place  had  been  taken  by  the  Marquis 
d'Aumenier,  but  in  the  mind  of  the  Senior  Captain 
and  of  the  others  the  old  Major  still  was  supreme 
and  he  said  the  words  quite  naturally. 

The  talking  ceased  at  once,  the  well-drilled  of 
ficers  and  men  stood  at  attention,  their  hands 
raised  in  salute.  Major  Lestoype  in  full  uniform, 
his  breast  bright  with  all  his  medals  and  orders — 
and  it  was  observable  that  everybody  else  had 
adorned  himself  with  every  decoration  he  possessed, 
even  those  that  had  become  illegal  and  valueless, 
forbidden  even,  after  the  fall  of  the  Empire — entered 
the  room,  acknowledged  the  salutes  and  bowed  cere 
moniously  to  the  officers  assembled.  He  was  fol- 


THE  EAGLE'S  FLIGHT         219 

lowed  by  a  tall  slender  young  man  on  this  occasion 
dressed  again  in  the  uniform  of  the  regiment. 

And  yet  there  was  a  difference  between  this 
stranger  and  the  other  officers.  While  from  the 
uniforms  of  the  other  officers  had  been  carefully 
removed  everything  which  in  the  least  degree  sug 
gested  the  Empire,  no  such  deletion  had  taken  place 
with  the  equipment  of  the  young  man.  On  the 
contrary,  the  buttons,  the  brasses,  the  braids,  the 
tricolored  cockade;  in  short,  everything  was  just 
as  it  was  before  the  restoration. 

The  eyes  of  the  soldiers  gleamed  as  they  imme 
diately  recognized  the  difference.  They  looked  upon 
him  with  a  certain  envy,  because  he  so  boldly 
sported  that  of  which  they  were  deprived.  At  first 
they  did  not  recognize  the  man  who  had  the  hardi 
hood  thus  to  display  the  insignia  of  Napoleon  in 
the  kingdom  of  Louis.  It  was  not  until  he  had 
advanced  further  in  the  room  and  stood  in  the  full 
light  of  the  chandelier  and  Major  Lestoype  turned 
toward  him  that  one  of  the  veterans  recognized 
him. 

"By  the  living  God,"  cried  a  deep  voice,  "Mar- 
teau!" 

Instantly  the  name  was  caught  up. 

"Marteau!  Marteau!  Marteau!"  came  from  all 
parts  of  the  room. 

"Gentlemen,  comrades,"  said  Lestoype,  raising  his 
hand,  "I  beseech  you,  silence.  Walls  have  ears. 
Every  man  here  is  tried  and  true.  We  are  trust 
ing  our  lives  and  honor  to  one  another,  but  what 
may  be  outside  I  know  not.  We  must  do  nothing 


220    THE  EAGLE  OF  THE  EMPIRE 

to  attract  any  attention.  Therefore,  restrain  your 
selves,  I  beg.  Captain  Marteau,  for  it  is  indeed 
he,  gentlemen,  has  brought  back  to  the  regi 
ment " 

He  paused  a  moment,  with  an  instinctive  feeling 
for  the  dramatic.  Perhaps  the  little  scene  had  been 
prearranged.  Marteau  had  carried  his  hand  behind 
his  back.  As  Lestoype  stopped  he  brought  his  hand 
to  the  front  of  his  body.  There  in  the  light  of  the 
candles,  from  the  great  chandelier  above,  the  officers 
and  soldiers  saw  the  thing  which  they  venerated 
next  to  God.  For  a  moment  they  stared,  almost 
aghast  at  the  gilded  emblem  in  Marteau's  hand. 
Eyes  sparkled  in  some  faces,  brimmed  with  tears 
in  others,  cheeks  paled  on  one  hand  and  flushed 
upon  the  other;  breaths  came  quicker,  a  low  mur 
mur  ran  through  the  room — almost  terrible  in  its 
meaning. 

"The  Eagle  of  the  regiment,  messieurs,"  said  old 
Lestoype  solemnly,  breaking  the  silence. 

"Vive  I'Empereur!"  suddenly  exclaimed  a  veteran 
port-aigle,  or  standard  bearer,  in  a  low  but  tense 
voice,  and  the  mighty  battle-cry  swept  softly 
through  the  room  from  man  to  man,  in  low  notes, 
in  broken  whispers  like  a  great  wavering  sigh  from 
a  multitude  of  throbbing  hearts. 

"Is  it  the  same?"  asked  one  as  the  sound  died 
away. 

"The  very  same,"  answered  Lestoype.  "It  was 
given  into  my  hands  years  ago.  I  had  someone 
write  down  the  Emperor's  words  then.  I  committed 
them  to  memory.  I  can  hear  him  speak  now." 


THE  EAGLE'S  FLIGHT         221 

"And  what  were  those  words  we  ask  you,  we,  who 
are  young  in  the  regiment,"  broke  out  a  youth  who 
was  yet  a  veteran  of  the  German  campaign  of  1813. 

"The  Emperor,  turning  to  Marshal  Berthier,  took 
the  Eagle  from  him,  he  held  it  up  thus  in  his  own 
hands." 

Lestoype  turned  to  Marteau  and  suited  the  ges 
ture  to  the  word.  He  seized  the  Eagle  and  advanced 
a  step  and  those  who  watched  him  so  keenly  no 
ticed  how  he  trembled.  It  was  to  him  as  if  the 
Emperor  were  there  again.  Some  mystic  aura  of  his 
mighty  presence  seemed  to  overhang  the  uplifted 
Eagle. 

"Gentlemen,  we  were  paraded  on  the  Champ  de 
Mars  with  thousands  of  others.  The  Eagles  had 
been  marched  along  the  line  with  the  ruffles  of 
drums  and  blare  of  bugles.  It  was  raining  like  to 
night,  there  was  no  sun,  but  never  saw  I  a  brighter 
day.  The  Emperor  said : 

"  'Soldiers  of  the  Fifth  regiment  of  Infantry  of 
the  Line,  I  entrust  to  you  the  Eagle  of  France.  It 
is  to  serve  to  you  ever  as  your  rallying  point.  You 
swear  to  me  never  to  abandon  it  but  with  life?  You 
swear  never  to  suffer  an  affront  to  it  for  the  honor 
of  France?  You  swear  ever  to  prefer  death  to  dis 
honor  for  it?  You  swear?' ' 

As  the  words  of  the  old  officer  died  away,  moved 
by  a  common  impulse,  the  hands  of  the  men  before 
him  went  to  their  swords.  With  sweeping  ges 
tures  they  dragged  them  out  of  their  sheaths,  up  into 
the  air  they  heaved  the  shining  blades. 

"We  swear,"  they  said  solemnly,  instinctively  re- 


222    THE  EAGLE  OF  THE  EMPIRE 

peating  the  ceremony  of  the  past  in  which  some 
of  them  had  participated  and  of  which  all  had 
heard. 

As  their  words  died  away  the  gruff  voices  of  the 
non-commissioned  officers  and  privates  standing  at 
salute  repeated  the  acclaim,  in  accordance  with  the 
custom. 

"It  was  so  when  the  Eagle  was  given,"  said  old 
Lestoype,  deeply  gratified  by  the  spontaneous  trib 
ute.  "Gentlemen  and  comrades,  be  seated,  if  you 
please.  I  have  called  you  here  for  the  honor  of 
the  regiment  to  consult  as  to  what  is  to  be  done." 

"Mon  Commandant"  said  an  old  veteran,  step 
ping  forward  as  those  present  sought  seats  where 
they  could,  "I  was  port-aigle  of  the  regiment  before 
Dresden.  May  I  not  take  in  my  hand  again  the 
'cou-cou'?" 

That  was  the  cant  name  which  the  soldiers  gave 
to  the  standard,  a  term  of  affection,  of  familiarity, 
of  comradeship  which  in  no  way  indicated  any  lack 
of  respect  or  any  diminution  of  determination  to  die 
for  it  if  necessary. 

"To  you  I  gladly  commit  it  until  we  have  deter 
mined  what  is  to  be  done  with  it,"  said  Lestoype, 
handing  it  to  the  old  man. 

It  seemed  a  perfectly  natural  and  spontaneous 
act  to  the  officers  present  when  the  port-aigle 
pressed  his  lips  reverently  upon  the  number  plate 
below  the  feet  of  the  Eagle  and  then,  disdaining  to 
sit  down,  stood  at  attention,  holding  it  before  him. 

"Will  you  not  tell  us,  Mon  Commandant,"  said 
another  of  the  younger  officers,  "something  more 


THE  EAGLE'S  FLIGHT         223 

about  the  Eagle  before  we  discuss  its  disposition?" 

"I  was  a  Sub-Lieutenant  at  Austerlitz,"  said 
Lestoype,  only  too  anxious  to  comply.  "We  were 
under  the  command  of  Marshal  Soult,  club-footed 
Soult  we  called  him,  upon  the  heights  of  Pratzen. 
In  the  advance  we  were  overwhelmed.  The  port- 
aigle  was  killed.  I  was  close  at  hand.  I  seized  the 
staff  but  a  bullet  got  me  in  the  shoulder,  here.  My 
arm  has  been  stiff  ever  since.  I  fell — a  Russian — 
we  were  that  closely  intermingled  and  fighting  hand 
to  hand — seized  the  staff.  I  lapsed  into  unconscious 
ness.  Captain  Grenier — you  were  Sergeant-Major 
then — finish  the  story." 

"Willingly,  Major  Lestoype.  I  cut  down  that 
Russian,  although  wounded  myself,  and  tore  the 
staff  from  him  as  he  fell.  But  I  couldn't  hold  it.  I 
fell  with  it  at  your  feet.  Our  men  had  been  driven 
back.  There  was  nobody  beside  us  but  the  regi 
mental  dog." 

"Mustache,"  said  one  of  the  other  officers,  and 
all  eyes  turned  toward  the  stuffed  skin  of  a  mongrel 
poodle  dog  mounted  in  a  glass  case  hung  against 
the  wall.  Hands  went  up  in  salute.  Some  of  the 
soldiers  laughed  grimly. 

"The  brave  Mustache,"  continued  Grenier.  "He 
leaped  over  my  prostrate  body.  I  was  conscious 
still.  I  saw  it  all.  I  would  have  given  worlds  for 
strength,  but  I  was  helpless.  Still  Mustache  was 
enough.  He  loved  the  port-aigle.  He  seemed  to 
know  the  Eagle  was  in  danger.  He  snapped  at  the 
hands  of  the  Russian.  The  man  drew  back  and 
cut  at  him  with  his  sword.  Perhaps  I  should  have 


received  that  blow.  You  see  where  the  forepaw 
of  the  dog  was  sliced  off?  But  he  had  the  spirit  of 
a  French  soldier,  that  brave  dog,  and  he  kept  them 
off  until  the  regiment  rallied  and  came  back  and 
drove  away  the  Russians.  Marshal  Lannes  had  a 
collar  made  for  Mustache.  You  can  see  it  there 
around  his  neck,  young  gentlemen,"  continued  the 
old  Captain.  "On  one  side  the  inscription  reads: 
'He  lost  a  leg  in  the  battle  of  Austerlitz  but  he  saved 
the  Eagle  of  his  regiment.'  On  the  other  side :  'Mus 
tache,  a  dog  of  France,  who  will  be  everywhere  re 
spected  and  honored  as  a  brave  soldier.' " 

"What  became  of  the  dog?"  asked  another. 

"He  was  carried  on  the  roll  of  the  regiment  until 
he  was  killed  by  an  English  cannon  ball  at  Badajos. 
We  took  the  skin  and  it  is  there,  but  we  buried  the 
brave  heart  and  the  rest  of  him  on  the  rampart 
where  he  fell.  The  soldiers  put  up  a  stone  above 
him.  'Here  lies  the  brave  Mustache/  it  read.  I 
think  the  English  left  it  standing." 

"That  Eagle  has  been  in  every  capital  of  Europe, 
messieurs,"  remarked  another  veteran.  "Rome, 
Berlin,  Vienna,  Madrid,  Moscow." 

"It  charged  with  the  Guard  at  Eylau,"  said  Dre-: 
hon.  "You  remember,  comrades,  some  of  you  at; 
least,  how  we  went  forward  in  support  of  the  bat 
talions  of  the  Guard  under  General  Dorsenne?" 

"I  remember,  I  remember,"  came  from  one  and 
another. 

"Hein"  said  a  veteran,  "he  was  a  bold  soldier." 

"And  a  handsome  one.  They  called  him  'Le  Beau 
Dorsenne,' "  continued  Drehon.  "The  Guard  ad- 


THE  EAGLE'S  FLIGHT          225 

vanced  at  arms-aport  and  so  did  we.  Our  drums 
and  theirs  were  rolling  La  Grenadiere.  One  of  his 
staff  said  to  him  as  we  drew  near  the  ranks  of  the 
Russians,  'Hadn't  we  better  begin  firing,  my  Gen 
eral?'  'No,'  said  the  proud  Dorsenne  haughtily. 
'Grenadiers  keep  your  arms  aport,'  he  continued  as 
he  saw  some  wavering.  'The  old  guard  only  fights 
at  the  point  of  the  bayonet.' ): 

"And  what  happened?" 

"The  Russians  seemed  to  be  paralyzed.  They 
stood  and  watched  us.  When  they  finally  did  fire,  in 
their  excitement,  they  overshot  us.  The  next  in 
stant  we  burst  upon  them.  Our  bayonets  came  down 
to  a  charge.  They  couldn't  stand  before  us,  com 
rades.  Corbleu !  the  white  snow  was  red  with  blood 
that  day!  A  squadron  of  cavalry,  the  Emperor's 
escort,  struck  them  in  the  rear  at  the  same  time  and 
between  us  we  cut  them  to  pieces.  They  were 
heavy,  those  big  Russians,  to  toss  on  the  bayonet, 
but  we  did  it." 

"Was  that  when  the  Emperor  called  us  'The  Ter 
rible  Fifth'?"  queried  a  voice. 

"That  was  the  time." 

"Tell  us  more,"  came  from  the  excited  assem 
blage. 

"They  gave  us  the  gold  wreath,  there  in  Paris, 
after  Jena  and  Eylau  and  Friedland.  They  loved 
the  Eagle  then,  those  Parisians,"  said  Adjutant 
Suraif,  taking  up  the  tale.  "The  women  fell  on  our 
necks  and  kissed  us  when  we  came  marching  back. 
They  threw  us  flowers.  They  opened  their  arms  to 
us.  They  gave  us  wine.  Ah,  that  was  fine." 


226    THE  EAGLE  OF  THE  EMPIRE 

"At  Ratisbon,"  said  the  old  Major,  "I  commanded 
the  regiment  at  the  bridge-head.  We  fought  the 
Austrians  off  all  day,  giving  the  Emperor  time  to 
make  his  dispositions.  We  captured  four  hundred 
prisoners,  an  Austrian  battle  flag,  and  three  other 
flags.  The  firing  was  terrible,  our  cou-cou  lost  some 
leaves  of  his  wreath  there.  We  were  alone  there 
and  at  nightfall  our  ammunition  was  all  gone.  The 
Austrians  were  there  in  thousands.  They  charged 
and  overwhelmed  us." 

"But  the  Eagle?" 

"Ah,  we  had  taken  precaution,"  laughed  the  old 
Major.  "We  wrapped  the  'cou-cou'  up  in  the  Aus 
trian  standard  and  in  the  battle  flags  and  buried  it 
in  a  cellar,  so  when  they  captured  us  they  got  noth 
ing  but  the  men  and,  of  course,  we  didn't  matter." 

"And  how  did  you  get  it  back?"  came  an  excited 
question. 

"The  Emperor  took  the  town  the  day  after.  They 
had  kept  us  prisoners  there  and  so  we  were  free. 
I  shall  never  forget  the  Emperor  on  that  day.  He 
rode  down  to  us  where  we  had  formed  in  ranks.  He 
looked  over  us.  His  glance  pierced  every  man's 
heart.  'Soldiers  of  the  Fifth,'  he  said,  'when  I  heard 
of  the  attack  on  the  bridge  at  Ratisbon  I  said  to 
my  staff,  "I  am  tranquil,  the  Terrible  Fifth  is  there," 
and  now  I  see  you  alive,  many  of  you  unharmed, 
and  without  your  Eagle.  What  have  you  done  with 
it?'  he  thundered  out  his  face  black  as  midnight. 
'Sire/  said  I,  stepping  forward  and  upon  my  word, 
comrades,  it  took  more  courage  to  face  the  Emperor 
in  that  mood  than  to  charge  an  Austrian  battery, 


THE  EAGLE'S  FLIGHT         227 

'we  have  not  lost  our  Eagle.  We  have  buried  it  and 
having  been  but  this  instant  released  from  captivity 
by  your  Majesty,  we  await  your  permission  to  dig 
it  up.'  'Go  and  resurrect  it/  he  said  sharply.  'I 
will  wait.' " 

"And  did  he?" 

"Most  assuredly.  We  found  it  safe  and  brought 
it  back  with  the  Austrian  standard.  The  Emperor 
saluted  it  and  commended  us.  'I  knew  I  could  trust 
you/  he  said,  smiling." 

"He  loved  his  Eagles,"  said  another  voice. 

"That  did  he,"  answered  a  veteran.  "I  have  even 
seen  him  get  out  of  his  traveling-carriage  and  stand 
at  attention  as  an  Eagle  at  the  head  of  a  regiment 
marched  by." 

"I  carried  the  Eagle  in  Marshal  Macdonald's 
column  at  Wagram,  messieurs,"  said  the  old  Eagle- 
bearer,  stepping  forward.  "It  was  there  the  bullet 
struck  the  wing  tip,  here."  He  laid  his  hand  ten 
derly  upon  it.  "Mon  Dieu,  that  was  a  march! 
Twenty  thousand  men  in  solid  columns  going  across 
the  plain  at  steady  step,  with  drums  beating,  the 
Austrians  pouring  shot  and  shell  into  us.  You  could 
hear  the  bullets  crash  through  the  breasts  of  the 
division  like  glass.  My  arm  was  numb  from  the 
bullet  which  struck  the  Eagle,  but  I  changed  hands 
and  carried  it  forward.  I  can  see  the  big  Marshal 
still.  The  Emperor  was  looking  on.  It  was  terrible. 
It  didn't  seem  that  mortal  man  could  make  it,  but 
we  kept  on,  still,  silent,  until  we  came  in  touch  with 
the  Austrians  and  then  we  cut  them  in  two.  It  was 
magnificent." 


228    THE  EAGLE  OF  THE  EMPIRE 

"I  was  with  Marshal  Mortier  when  we  were 
caught  in  the  pass  of  Durrenstein,"  broke  out  one 
of  the  privates,  an  old  Eagle-guard.  "We  fought 
all  day  and  all  night  in  that  trap  against  awful  odds, 
waiting,  hoping,  until  toward  morning  we  heard  the 
thunder  of  Dupont's  guns.  We  were  so  close  to 
gether  that  we  seized  the  throats  of  the  Russians, 
and  they  ours.  We  begged  the  Marshal  to  use  a 
boat  we  had  found  to  cross  over  the  Danube  and 
escape.  'No/  he  said,  'certainly  not!  I  will  not 
desert  my  brave  comrades!  I  will  save  them  or 
die  with  them.'  Ah,  he  was  a  brave  man  that  day." 

"And  that  such  a  man  could  betray  the  Em 
peror!"  exclaimed  another. 

"I  never  could  understand  it,"  said  one  of  the  sol 
diers. 

"That  was  the  day,"  said  a  third,  "when  our 
drums  were  shot  to  pieces  and  we  had  to  beat  the 
long  roll  on  the  iron  cooking  cans." 

"You  remember  it  well,  comrade." 

"I  was  a  drummer  there.  I  remember  there  were 
but  two  thousand  of  the  six  thousand  in  the  di 
vision  that  answered  roll  call  that  day." 

"I  carried  that  Eagle  into  Moscow,"  said  a  scarred, 
one-armed  veteran.  "I  would  have  carried  it  back, 
but  I  was  wounded  at  Malojaroslavets  and  would 
have  died  but  for  you,  my  friend." 

"And  I  carried  it  across  the  Niemen  after  that 
retreat  was  over,"  returned  the  other,  acknowledg 
ing  the  generous  tribute  of  his  old  fellow  soldier. 

"Sacre-bleu !  How  cold  it  was.  Not  many  of  you 
can  remember  that  march  because  so  few  survived 


THE  EAGLE'S  FLIGHT         229 

it.  The  battalions  in  Spain  can  thank  God  they 
escaped  it,"  said  another. 

"It  was  hot  enough  there,  and  those  English  gave 
us  plenty  of  fighting,"  added  one  of  the  veterans 
who  had  fought  against  Wellington. 

"Aye,  that  they  did,  I'll  warrant,"  continued  the 
veteran  of  Russia.  "The  Emperor  who  marched 
on  foot  with  the  rest  of  us.  Before  crossing  the 
Beresina — I  shudder  to  think  of  the  thousands 
drowned  then.  I  dream  about  it  sometimes  at  night 
— we  were  ordered  to  break  up  the  Eagles  and 
throw  them  into  the  river." 

"And  did  you?" 

"Not  I.  That  is  the  only  order  I  disobeyed.  I 
carried  it  with  me,  wrapped  in  my  own  clothes. 
One  night  my  fingers  froze  to  it.  See!"  He  lifted 
his  maimed  hands.  "But  I  held  on.  I  crossed  the 
Nieman  before  Marshal  Ney.  He  threw  away  his 
musket,  but  I  kept  the  Eagle.  He  was  the  last 
man,  I  was  just  before  him,"  said  the  man  proudly. 

"It  was  Marteau  who  saved  it  at  Leipsic,"  said 
Lestoype,  "and  again  after  he  had  hurled  it  into  the 
Aube  at  Arcis  he  found  it  and  brought  it  back.  And 
it  is  here." 

Tears  glistened  in  the  eyes  of  the  veterans  and 
the  youth  alike.  Hearts  beat  more  rapidly,  breaths 
came  quicker,  as  these  brave  and  fragmentary  rem 
iniscences  of  the  part  the  Eagle  had  played  in  past 
glories  were  recited. 

"What  shall  we  do  with  it  now?"  asked  Lestoype 
at  last. 


CHAPTER   XX 

WHEN  THE  VIOLETS  BLOOM  AGAIN 

Now  there  was  not  a  man  in  the  room  who  had 
not  heard  of  the  order  to  return  the  Eagles  to  Paris, 
where  they  were  to  be  broken  up  and  melted  down, 
not  a  man  in  the  army  for  that  matter.  Nor  was 
there  a  man  who  had  not  heard  some  account  of 
the  resistance  of  other  regiments  to  the  order,  which 
had  been  nevertheless  enforced  wherever  possible, 
although  in  cases  not  a  few  Eagles  had  been  hidden 
or  disappeared  mysteriously  and  had  not  been  given 
up.  There  was  scarcely  a  man  in  the  regiment — 
unless  some  royalist  officer  or  new  recruit — who  had 
not  been  glad  that  their  own  Eagle  had  been  lost 
honorably  in  battle  and  buried,  as  they  believed,  in 
the  river.  It  was  more  fitting  that  it  should  meet 
that  end  than  be  turned  back  to  Paris  to  be  broken 
up,  melted  down  and  cast  into  metal  for  ignoble 
use — and  any  other  use  would  be  ignoble  in  the  es 
timation  of  the  regiment. 

"I  would  rather  throw  it  into  the  Isere,"  growled 
old  Grenier,  "than  send  it  back." 

"And  I,  and  I,  and  I,"  came  from  different  voices. 

"Perhaps,"  said  Lestoype,  speaking  slowly  and 
with  deep  meaning,  for  he  realized  that  his  words 
were  in  the  highest  degree  treasonable,  "if  we  can 

230 


'THE  TEMPLE  FIFTH"  SALUTES  ITS  LOST  EAGLE.   "VIVE  L'EMPEREUR." 


THE  EAGLE'S  FLIGHT          231 

preserve  it  by  some  means  we  may  see  it  once  again 
at  the  head  of  the  regiment  when—  "  he  stopped. 
The  silence  was  positively  ghastly.  He  looked  about 

him.  The  men  thrilled  to  his  glance.  " 'when 

the  violets  bloom  again/  "  he  said,  using  the  mystic 
poetic  phrase  which  had  become  so  widely  current. 

"God  speed  the  day!"  burst  out  some  deep  voiced 
veteran. 

"Amen,  amen!" 

"Vive  I'Empereur!" 

"Let  us  save  the  Eagle!" 

The  whole  room  was  in  tumult  of  nervous  cries. 

"Vive  le  brave  Marteau!"  finally  said  Drehon 
when  he  could  get  a  hearing.  "He  has  given  us 
back  our  honor,  our  life." 

The  emotions  of  the  moment  were  too  much. 
Reckless  of  what  might  happen,  the  room  instantly 
rang  with  loud  acclaim  in  response  to  this  appeal. 
The  soldiers  sprang  to  their  feet,  moved  by  irre 
sistible  emotion.  Swords  were  drawn  again. 

The  officers  and  men  clustered  around  Lestoype 
and  Marteau.  The  Eagle  was  lifted  high,  blades 
were  upheaved  threateningly  again.  Dangers  were 
forgotten.  Intoxicated  with  enthusiasm  they  gave 
free  course  to  their  emotions. 

"Vive  I'Empereur!"  resounded  through  the  hall, 
not  whispered  but  shouted,  not  shouted  but  roared! 

In  their  mad  frenzy  of  excitement  they  did  not, 
any  of  them,  notice  that  the  door  into  the  hall  had 
been  thrown  open  and  that  a  young  officer  of  the 
regiment  stood  there,  his  face  pale  with  amazement, 
his  mouth  open,  staring.  He  could  not  take  in  the 


232    THE  EAGLE  OF  THE  EMPIRE 

whole  purport  of  the  scene  but  he  saw  the  Eagle, 
he  heard  the  cries,  the  word  "Vive"  came  to  him 
out  of  the  tumult,  coupled  with  the  name  of  Mar- 
teau  and  the  Emperor. 

"Gentlemen!"  he  finally  shouted,  raising  his  voice 
to  its  highest  pitch  and  as  the  sound  penetrated  to 
the  tumultuous  mass  the  noise  died  away  almost  as 
suddenly  as  it  had  arisen. 

Men  faced  about  and  stared  toward  the  entrance. 
There  stood  young  St.  Laurent,  one  of  the  royalist 
officers,  newly  appointed  to  the  regiment,  who  had 
been  made  aide  to  the  Governor  and  commander. 

"Major  Lestoype,"  said  the  youth  with  great  firm 
ness,  having  recovered  his  presence  of  mind  and  re 
alizing  instantly  the  full  purport  and  menace  of 
the  situation,  "an  order  from  the  Governor  requests 
your  presence  at  once.  I  was  sent  to  deliver  it.  The 
soldiers  at  the  door  strove  vainly  to  stop  me  but 
I  forced  my  way  past  them.  I  am  an  unwelcome 
guest,  I  perceive,  being  a  loyal  servant  of  the  King, 
but  I  am  here.  What  is  the  meaning  of  this  gather 
ing,  the  worship  of  this  discarded  emblem,  these 
treasonable  cries?" 

"Am  I,  a  veteran  of  the  army  of  Italy,  to  be  cate 
chised  and  questioned  by  a  boy?"  growled  Lestoype 
in  mingled  rage  and  astonishment. 

"You  forget  yourself,  monsieur.  I  regret  to  fail 
in  any  military  duty  or  in  respect  to  my  seniors, 
but  in  this  I  represent  the  Marquis  d'Aumenier,  the 
Governor,  aye,  even  the  King,  my  master.  Whence 
came  this  Eagle?" 

There  was  a  dead  silence. 


THE  EAGLE'S  FLIGHT         233 

"I  brought  it,  monsieur,  to  my  old  comrades,  to 
my  old  regiment,"  coolly  said  Marteau,  stepping 
forward. 

"Traitor!"  exclaimed  St.  Laurent,  confronting  him 
boldly. 

"Not  so,  for  I  have  taken  no  oath  to  King  Louis." 

"Ah,  you  still  wear  the  insignia  of  the  Corsican,  I 
see,"  continued  the  young  aide,  looking  more  closely. 
"But  how  about  these  gentlemen?" 

Again  the  question  was  met  by  silence. 

"Messieurs,"  said  St.  Laurent,  "you  are  old  sol 
diers  of  the  former  Emperor.  I  see.  I  understand. 
You  love  him  as  I  and  mine  the  King.  It  is  as 
much  as  my  life  is  worth,  as  much  as  my  honor, 
to  condone  it.  Yet  I  would  not  be  a  tale-bearer, 
but  this  cannot  pass  unless — 

"Shall  I  cut  him  down  where  he  stands,  Mon  Com 
mandant?"  growled  the  old  port-aigle,  presenting  his 
weapon. 

"And  add  murder  to  treason!"  exclaimed  St. 
Laurent,  his  face  flushing  a  little  but  not  giving  back 
an  inch  before  the  threatening  approach  of  the 
veteran. 

There  was  good  stuff  in  him,  evidently,  and  even 
those  who  foresaw  terrible  consequences  to  them 
selves  in  his  unexpected  presence  could  not  but  ad 
mire  him.  They  were  even  proud  that  he  was  a 
Frenchman,  even  though  he  served  the  King  they 
hated. 

"By  no  means,"  said  Lestoype,  motioning  the 
color-bearer  back.  "You  shall  go  as  freely  as  you 
came." 


234    THE  EAGLE  OF  THE  EMPIRE 

"And  if  you  do  as  I  suggest  I  shall  go  and  forget 
all  I  have  seen,  messieurs." 

"Impossible!" 

"Upon  my  honor  I  shall  do  it  but  on  one  condi 
tion." 

"Ah  land  that  is?" 

"That  you  give  me  the  Eagle." 

"Give  you  the  Eagle!"  exclaimed  old  Captain 
Grenier. 

"The  Eagle  for  which  our  brave  comrades  died," 
said  Drehon. 

"The  Eagle  which  has  been  carried  in  triumph  in 
every  capital  in  Europe!"  added  Suraif. 

The  whole  room  was  filled  with  cries  again. 

"Never!  Never!" 

The  whole  mass  surged  forward,  including  Mar- 
teau. 

"Was  it  to  give  it  up  to  any  servant  of  King 
Louis  that  I  brought  it  back?"  the  latter  shouted 
threateningly. 

"Gentlemen,"  said  the  young  aide  so  soon  as  he 
could  make  himself  heard  in  the  tumult,  "the  choice 
is  yours,  not  mine.  I  am  a  soldier  of  the  King,  aide- 
de-camp  to  the  Governor  of  this  place,  an  officer 
under  the  Marquis  d'Aumenier.  You  have  your 
ideas  of  duty,  I  have  mine.  I  have  already 
stretched  my  conscience  to  the  limit  in  offering  to 
be  silent  about  this  under  any  conditions.  I  am 
doing  wrong  in  concealing  it  but  I  do  not  wish  to 
doom  so  many  brave  men  to  disgrace,  to  death. 
You,  monsieur" — he  pointed  toward  Marteau — 
"refused  a  commission  in  this  regiment.  You  wear 


THE  EAGLE'S  FLIGHT         235 

the  insignia  of  Bonaparte.  You  have  no  place  here. 
Withdraw.  Your  arrival  has  disturbed  the  orderly 
course  of  events.  These  gentlemen  were  doing  their 
duty  contentedly " 

"No,  by  God,  never,"  roared  out  a  veteran.  "Con 
tentedly!  We  will  never  be  content  until " 

"Until  what,  monsieur?" 

"Until  the  violets  bloom  again,"  came  the  answer, 
accompanied  by  a  burst  of  sardonic  laughter. 

"Your  interest  in  the  flowers  of  spring  does  not 
concern  me,  gentlemen,"  returned  the  young  aide, 
affecting  not  to  understand,  and  perhaps  he  did 
not.  "If  you  will  give  me  the  Eagle " 

"And  what  will  you  do  with  it  if  we  should  do 
so?" 

"I  will  be  silent  as  to  this." 

"And  how  will  you  explain  your  possession  of 
it?" 

"I  will  say  that  I  got  it  from  Monsieur  Marteau, 
who  has  gone." 

"And  what  will  you  do  with  it?" 

"That  shall  be  as  the  Marquis  cTAumenier  di 
rects." 

"And  he?" 

"I  think  he  will  undoubtedly  obey  the  orders  of 
the  Minister  of  War  and  send  it  to  Paris  to  be 
broken  up." 

"Gentlemen,"  said  Major  Lestoype,  endeavoring 
to  quiet  and  repress  the  growls  of  antagonism  that 
arose  on  every  hand,  "you  hear  the  proposition  of 
Monsieur  St.  Laurent.  Seeing  his  duty  as  he  does, 
I  am  forced  to  admit,"  continued  the  veteran  with 


236    THE  EAGLE  OF  THE  EMPIRE 

great  magnanimity,  "that  it  does  credit  to  his  heart. 
What  shall  we  do?" 

"Purchase  our  freedom,  purchase  our  rank,  pur 
chase  our  lives  by  giving  up  our  Eagle!"  said  old 
Captain  Grenier.  "Never!" 

"I  vote  NO  to  that  proposition,"  said  Drehon. 

"And  I,  and  I,  and  I,"  acclaimed  the  soldiers. 

"You  hear,  Monsieur  St.  Laurent?"  said  the  Ma 
jor.  "These  gentlemen  have  signified  their  will  un 
mistakably." 

"I  hear,"  said  the  young  aide.  "Major  Lestoype, 
forgive  me  if  I  have  failed  in  respect  or  soldierly 
deference  to  my  superior  officer,  but  I,  too,  have 
my  duty  to  perform.  I  warn  you  all  that  when  I 
pass  from  this  room  I  shall  go  directly  to  the 
Marquis  d'Aumenier  and  report  what  I  have  seen." 

"When  he  passes,"  cried  some  of  the  soldiers  of 
lower  rank  ominously,  emphasizing  the  adverb  and 
rudely  thrusting  themselves  between  St.  Laurent 
and  the  door. 

"Pardon  me,  gentlemen,"  said  the  young  aide 
quite  coolly.  "It  seems  that  I  spoke  unadvisedly 
in  one  particular." 

"You  retract?"  said  a  voice. 

"Never.    I  should  have  said  'if  I  pass.' ' 

Swords  were  still  out,  hands  were  clenched,  arms 
were  raised. 

"Say  the  word  and  he  dies  where  he  stands,"  cried 
one. 

"Gentlemen,"  said  Lestoype  sternly,  "back,  all  of 
you.  Free  passage  for  Monsieur  St.  Laurent. 
Back,  I  say.  Let  him  go  unharmed,  as  he  came." 


THE  EAGLE'S  FLIGHT         237 

"My  orders  were  to  request  your  presence  before 
the  Governor  of  the  town  immediately,"  said  the 
aide. 

"I  attend  him  at  once,  young  gentleman,"  re 
turned  the  old  soldier,  seizing  his  cloak  and  cov 
ering  his  head  with  his  chapeau.  "Gentlemen,"  he 
added,  turning  to  the  rest,  "I  leave  the  Eagle  in 
your  hands.  Before  he  departs  let  me  say  that  Mon 
sieur  St.  Laurent  has  borne  himself  like  a  brave 
man,  a  gallant  officer,  and  a  true  gentleman.  Mon 
sieur,  you  will  not  take  amiss  this  heartfelt  tribute 
from  so  old  a  soldier  as  I." 

"I  thank  you,  sir,  and  you,  gentlemen,"  said  the 
young  aide,  surveying  the  men,  their  sudden  temper 
abated,  now  looking  at  him  with  admiration,  some 
of  them  with  hands  raised  in  salute.  "The  duty 
you  have  imposed  upon  me  by  your  choice  is  the 
most  painful  I  shall  ever  be  called  upon  to  per 
form." 

"This  way,  Monsieur  St.  Laurent,"  said  old 
Lestoype,  stepping  through  the  door  with  his  head 
high,  beckoning  the  young  aide  to  follow  him. 

The  door  had  scarcely  closed  behind  the  two  when 
the  wild  confusion  broke  out  again. 

"What  shall  be  done  now?"  cried  Captain  Grenier, 
the  senior  officer  present,  as  soon  as  he  could  be 
heard. 

"Messieurs,"  said  Marteau,  striving  to  gain  the 
attention  of  all,  "let  me  speak  a  moment.  I  have 
a  plan.  Be  silent,  I  beg  of  you." 

"We  will  hear  Marteau." 


238    THE  EAGLE  OF  THE  EMPIRE 

"What  have  you  to  suggest?" 

"Speak!" 

"Be  quick." 

"This.    I  will  take  the  Eagle,  I,  who  brought  it." 

"You  will  throw  it  into  the  Isere?" 

"No.  I  know  this  town  like  a  book.  The  regi 
ment  was  once  stationed  here  for  a  few  months.  I 
had  time  on  my  hands.  I  explored  many  of  the 

ancient  buildings.  I  will But  ask  me  nothing. 

Trust  the  Eagle  to  me.  I  have  periled  my  life  for 
it  as  have  you  all.  Trust  it  to  me.  It  shall  come 
to  no  dishonor  in  my  hands.  Say  to  the  Governor 
that  I  came  here,  that  I  brought  the  Eagle,  that  I 
was  asked  to  surrender  it,  that  I  refused,  that  I  took 
it  away,  that  you  know  not  where  I  concealed  it, 
nor  whither  I  am  gone.  Let  Monsieur  St.  Laurent 
make  his  report.  You  can  simply  tell  the  truth. 
Nothing  will  be  done." 

"It  is  well  thought  on,"  said  Captain  Grenier. 

"The  danger  is  to  you,"  said  another. 

"What  of  that?  I  have  looked  danger  in  the 
face  often  since  I  have  been  in  the  army,  like  all 
the  rest  of  you." 

"I  like  not  to  shift  the  responsibility  upon  this 
young  man,"  said  the  old  port-aigle  dubiously.  "He 
is  saving  our  lives  at  the  risk  of  his  own  if  they 
should  find  him — which  is  likely." 

"Messieurs,"  said  Marteau  quickly,  "I  am  not  pre 
serving  your  lives  for  yourselves." 

"Why,  then?"  asked  an  officer. 

"That  you  may  be  ready,"  said  the  young  man, 


THE  EAGLE'S  FLIGHT          239 

throwing  his  cloak  about  his  shoulders,  seizing  the 
Eagle  with  his  hands,  "when  the  violets  bloom 
again." 

As  they  stared  at  him  he  saluted,  turned  on  his 
heel,  opened  the  door  and  went  out. 


CHAPTER   XXI 

LIKE  A  THIEF  IN  THE  NIGHT 

THE  reception  was  over.  The  last  guest  had  de 
parted.  The  house  had  been  closed.  Sir  Gervaise 
Yeovil  and  his  son  and  the  Countess  Laure  had 
bidden  the  old  Marquis  good  night  and  retired  to 
their  several  apartments.  There  were  wakeful  hours 
ahead  for  the  Governor,  who  repaired  to  his  cabinet 
and  got  to  work.  The  tidings  which  had  been 
brought  him  by  the  young  Baron  St.  Laurent  were 
sufficiently  grave  and  perturbing  to  render  sleep 
impossible,  even  if  he  had  nothing  to  do.  In  great 
astonishment  the  Marquis  had  questioned  Major 
Lestoype  closely  and  from  him  had  received  a  frank 
and  accurate  version  of  the  whole  affair.  The  Major 
would  have  died  rather  than  betray  a  comrade,  but 
in  this  instance  the  betrayal  had  already  been  ef 
fected  and  there  was  nothing  whatever  to  be  gained, 
from  Marteau's  point  of  view  or  from  anybody's 
point  of  view,  by  an  attempt  at  concealment. 

The  old  Marquis  had  acted  with  dazzling  promp 
titude.  His  personal  escort  had  consisted  of  a  troop 
of  loyalist  cavalry  from  the  King's  household  guard 
and  it  had  not  yet  returned  to  Paris.  He  could  de 
pend  absolutely  upon  these  men.  They  had  none 
of  them  been  soldiers  of  the  grand  armies  of  the 

240 


THE  EAGLE'S  FLIGHT         241 

Emperor.  They  had  been  recruited  in  loyal  and 
long-suffering  Vendee.  He  placed  them  under  the 
command  of  St.  Laurent,  of  whose  conduct  he  highly 
approved,  being  in  ignorance  of  the  offer  of  se 
crecy  made  by  that  young  soldier,  Lestoype  being 
too  fine  a  man  to  attempt  to  better  his  case  by 
bringing  the  Lieutenant  into  disgrace.  This  detach 
ment  had  searched  the  Major's  quarters  thoroughly. 
They  had  found  them,  of  course,  deserted. 

Captain  Grenier,  being  forthwith  summoned  to 
headquarters,  had  stated  truthfully  that  Marteau 
had  taken  the  Eagle  and  gone  and  thereafter  the 
assembly  had  dispersed.  He  declared  upon  his 
word  of  honor  that  he  had  no  knowledge  where  he 
had  gone  or  what  he  had  done  with  the  Eagle.  The 
Marquis  had  a  complete  description  of  Marteau 
drawn  up  and  sent  to  every  gate  in  the  walled  town. 
The  guard  was  ordered  to  permit  nobody  and  noth 
ing  to  pass  without  the  severest  scrutiny  and  the 
closest  search  or  inspection.  The  Governor  made 
preparations  for  public  proclamation  on  the  mor 
row,  offering  a  large  reward  for  the  fugitive's  ap 
prehension  dead  or  alive,  and  also  an  additional  re 
ward  for  information  that  would  lead  to  the  dis 
covery  of  the  missing  Eagle. 

Promising  himself  to  deal  with  the  matter  even 
more  thoroughly  in  the  morning,  he  had  at  last 
dismissed  his  subordinates  and  retired.  If  Marteau 
was  within  the  city  walls — and  it  was  impossible 
to  see  how  he  could  have  got  out  of  the  town  with 
out  a  pass  after  twelve  o'clock  at  night — he  would 
find  him  if  he  had  to  search  every  house  in  the 


242    THE  EAGLE  OF  THE  EMPIRE 

town.  The  spirit  of  the  old  man  was  high  and 
aflame.  To  be  so  braved,  to  have  his  command 
the  scene  of  such  an  outbreak  of  disloyalty  and 
treason  to  the  King  was  more  than  he  could  bear 
with  equanimity. 

There  was  another  regiment  in  the  town  that  had 
formerly  been  known  as  the  Seventh-of-the-Line, 
commanded  by  Colonel  Labedoyere,  and  there  were 
detachments  of  artillery.  The  Eagle  of  the  Seventh 
had  never  been  sent  to  the  War  Office  in  Paris.  It, 
too,  had  disappeared.  But  that  had  been  months 
before  the  Marquis'  time,  and  he  had  no  responsi 
bility  for  that.  Colonel  Labedoyere  was  more  than 
suspected  of  lukewarmness,  but  as  he  was  a  young 
man  of  great  influence,  high  social  standing  and 
much  personal  popularity  no  steps  had  as  yet  been 
taken  against  him.  The  Marquis  determined  to 
have  it  out  with  him  also  at  the  first  convenient 
season,  and  unless  he  could  be  assured  of  his  abso 
lute  devotion  to  King  Louis,  he  would  report  to 
the  Minister  of  War  the  necessity  of  the  Colonel's 
removal. 

The  old  man  was  fully  alive  to  the  Napoleonic 
sentiment  among  the  soldiers,  a  sentiment  which 
arose  from  a  variety  of  motives.  In  the  first  place, 
war  was  the  trade  of  most  of  the  soldiers.  They 
lived  on  it,  thrived  by  it,  delighted  in  it.  The  per 
manence  of  the  monarchy  meant  peace.  There 
would  be  little  chance  for  advancement  and  none 
at  all  for  plunder.  Self-interest  predisposed  every 
old  soldier  to  continue  an  imperialist. 

In  the  second  place,  the  finances  of  France  were 


THE  EAGLE'S  FLIGHT         243 

naturally  in  a  most  disordered  condition.  The  pay 
of  officers  and  men  was  greatly  in  arrears;  promises 
made  had  not  been  kept,  and  there  was  much  heart 
felt  dissatisfaction  on  that  account.  The  pay  of 
a  soldier  is  in  no  sense  an  adequate  compensation 
for  the  risks  he  runs,  the  perils  to  which  he  volun 
tarily  and  willingly  subjects  himself,  but  it  is  a  uni 
versal  experience  that  although  his  pay  is  in  no 
degree  commensurate,  yet  the  soldier  whose  pay  is 
withheld  instantly  becomes  insubordinate  and  mu 
tinous,  however  high  or  patriotic  the  motives  back 
of  his  enlistment. 

Again  the  officers  had,  most  of  them,  been  de 
graded  in  rank.  Many  of  them  had  been  retired  on 
pittances  which  were  not  paid.  Those  who  were 
lucky  enough  to  be  retained  in  active  service  were 
superseded  by  superannuated,  often  incompetent 
old  officers  of  the  old  royal  army  before  the  revo 
lution,  or  by  young  scions  of  nobility  with  no  knowl 
edge  or  fitness  to  command  veterans,  to  whom  the 
gross-bodied,  uninspiring,  gouty  old  King  did  not 
appeal.  Again,  the  regimental  names  and  associa 
tions  had  been  changed  and  the  old  territorial  or 
royal  and  princely  designations  had  been  reestab 
lished;  the  Napoleonic  victories  had  been  erased 
from  the  battle-flags;  the  Eagles  had  been  taken 
away. 

The  plain  people  of  France  were  more  or  less 
apathetic  toward  Emperor  or  King.  France  had 
been  drained  of  its  best  for  so  long  that  it  craved 
rest  and  peace  and  time  to  recuperate  above  every 
thing  else.  It  had  been  sated  with  glory  and  was 


244    THE  EAGLE  OF  THE  EMPIRE 

alike  indifferent  to  victory  or  defeat.  But  the  army 
was  a  seething  mass  of  discontent.  It  had  nothing 
to  gain  by  the  continuance  of  present  conditions 
and  everything  to  lose.  It  was  a  body  of  soldiers- 
of-fortune  held  in  control  temporarily  by  circum 
stances  but  ready  to  break  the  leash  and  respond 
instantly  to  the  call  of  the  greatest  soldier-of-for- 
tune  of  all. 

And  while  all  this  is  true  it  must  also  be  ad 
mitted  that  there  were  many  officers  and  men  like 
Marteau  who  were  profoundly  humiliated  and  dis 
tressed  over  conditions  in  France  and  who,  passion 
ately  wrapped  up  in  and  devoted  to  the  Emperor, 
had  spurned  commissions  and  dignities  and  prefer 
ments.  If  they  were  obscure  men  they  remained 
in  France  unnoticed;  if  they  were  great  men  they 
had  expatriated  themselves  and  sought  seclusion 
and  safety  in  other  countries,  oftentimes  at  great 
personal  sacrifice  of  property,  ease  and  comfort. 

The  King,  who  was  by  no  means  lacking  in 
shrewdness  and  wit,  and  his  chief  advisers  in  Paris, 
did  not  fail  to  realize  something  of  this,  but  keen- 
sighted  men  like  the  Marquis  d'Aumenier,  away 
from  the  person  of  the  monarch,  realized  it  much 
more  fully,  although  even  he  had  not  the  least  idea 
of  the  wide  extent  and  depth  of  this  feeling.  But 
the  old  man  knew  instinctively  that  he  must  control 
things  in  Grenoble  at  least  with  an  iron  hand  and 
that  no  temporizing  was  possible.  The  return  of 
Marteau,  who  was  a  man  of  parts  and  power,  he 
admitted — he  recalled  how  well  he  had  borne  him 
self  before  the  little  group  in  the  drawing-room! — 


THE  EAGLE'S  FLIGHT         245 

followed  by  the  midnight  gathering,  the  joy  of  the 
veterans,  their  worship  almost  of  the  Eagle,  enlight 
ened  him.  He  would  put  down  sedition  with  an 
iron  hand,  he  swore  to  himself.  The  King  had  com 
mitted  this  important  place  to  him.  It  was,  in  a 
certain  sense,  a  frontier  city  if  the  impossible  hap 
pened.  Well,  the  King  should  find  that  he  had  not 
reposed  trust  in  the  Marquis  for  nothing. 

So  the  old  man  thought  as  he  lay  sleepless  dur 
ing  the  night.  He  was  not  the  only  one  who  lay 
sleepless  during  the  night.  Laure  d'Aumenier 
sought  rest  and  oblivion  in  vain.  She  had  been 
more  moved  by  Marteau's  conduct  and  bearing  and 
presence  in  the  old  Chateau  d'Aumenier,  a  year  ago, 
than  she  had  been  willing  to  admit  until  she  thought 
him  dead.  The  Marteaux  had  always  been  a  good- 
looking,  self-respecting  people.  Madame  Marteau, 
his  mother,  had  been  an  unusual  woman  who  had, 
it  was  said,  married  beneath  her  when  she  became 
the  wife  of  old  Jean  Marteau,  although  she  never 
in  her  long  married  life  thought  of  it  in  that  way. 
The  present  Jean  Marteau  was  as  handsome  and 
distinguished  looking  a  man  as  there  was  in  France. 
The  delicacy  and  refinement  of  his  bearing  and  ap 
pearance  did  not  connote  weakness  either,  as  she 
could  testify. 

The  young  woman  owed  her  life  and  honor  to  the 
young  soldier.  But  long  before  that  chance  meet 
ing  they  had  been  companions  in  childhood,  inti 
mate  companions,  too.  The  boy  had  been  her  ser 
vitor,  but  he  had  been  more.  He  had  been  her 
protector  and  friend.  In  her  memory  she  could 


246    THE  EAGLE  OF  THE  EMPIRE 

recall  incident  after  incident  when  he  had  helped 
her,  shielded  her.  Never  once  had  he  failed  to 
show  anything  but  devotion  absolute  and  unbounded 
toward  her. 

The  proposition  of  marriage  he  had  made  in 
the  old  hall,  which  she  had  laughed  to  scorn,  had 
by  no  means  escaped  her  memory.  She  had  dwelt 
upon  it,  she  had  even  speculated  upon  the  possi 
bility  of  an  acceptance  of  his  proposal.  Why  not? 
She  knew  no  man  more  gentle  at  heart,  more  gallant 
in  soul,  more  noble  in  spirit  than  he.  That,  too,  she 
had  turned  over  and  over  in  her  mind. 

She  admired  Frank  Yeovil.  He  was  a  likable 
man,  frank  by  nature  as  well  as  name  and  brave, 
sunny  in  disposition  and  ardently  devoted  to  her. 
When  the  betrothal  had  been  made  at  her  uncle's 
urgent  insistence  that  she  accept  Captain  Yeovil's 
suit,  it  had  been  a  great  match  for  her,  for  the 
d'Aumeniers  were  impoverished  exiles,  while  the 
Yeovils  were  a  rich  family  and  of  a  line  almost  as 
long  as  her  own.  It  had  been  easy  enough  to  plight 
her  troth  to  the  young  Englishman  at  first,  but 
since  she  had  seen  Marteau,  she  realized  that  it 
would  not  be  easy  to  keep  that  engagement.  For 
tunately,  Captain  Yeovil  had  been  on  service  in 
Spain  and  the  South  of  France  with  the  Duke  of 
Wellington's  army,  and  only  a  few  weeks  before 
had  he  joined  her  uncle  and  herself  in  Paris  on  leave 
of  absence.  He  had  pressed  her  to  name  the  day 
but  she  had  temporized  and  avoided  the  issue;  not 
for  any  definite  reason  but  because  as  the  time  drew 


THE  EAGLE'S  FLIGHT         247 

near  she  became  less  and  less  willing  to  be  the  Eng 
lishman's  wife. 

Marteau  had  been  reported  killed  at  Arcis.  Per 
haps  that  report  had  done  more  to  enlighten  her 
to  the  true  state  of  her  affections  than  anything 
else.  Her  pride  of  birth,  her  rank  and  station  would 
never  have  permitted  her,  it  may  be,  to  dwell  upon 
a  living  Marteau  as  a  possible  husband,  but  since  he 
was  dead  there  could  be  no  harm  in  dreams  of  that 
kind;  and  in  her  grief  she  had  indulged  herself  in 
them  to  the  full.  It  had  been  a  shock  to  her,  of 
course,  but  not  so  great  a  shock  as  it  would  have  been 
if  an  engagement  had  subsisted  between  the  two,  or 
she  had  permitted  herself  to  think  that  she  could 
ever  look  favorably  on  the  proposition  he  had  made 
to  her.  Nevertheless,  it  had  been  a  great  sorrow. 
There  were  some  alleviations  to  the  situation,  how 
ever.  Since  it  had  become  impossible,  since  she 
believed  Marteau  dead,  she  could  indulge  her  grief 
and  her  mind  could  dwell  upon  those  attractions 
which  had  influenced  her  so  powerfully. 

The  period  was  one  of  intense  anxiety  and  excite 
ment.  The  old  Marquis  had  lived  much  alone.  He 
was  not  versed  in  woman's  ways.  Her  agitation 
and  grief  passed  unnoticed.  By  degrees  she  got 
control  of  herself.  Since  it  was  not  to  be  Marteau 
it  might  as  well  be  young  Yeovil.  The  whole  epi 
sode  with  which  the  French  officer  was  concerned 
she  viewed  from  a  point  of  detachment  as  a  roman 
tic  dream.  His  arrival  had  rudely  shattered  that 
dream  and  awakened  her  to  the  reality  of  the  situa 
tion.  She  loved  him. 


248    THE  EAGLE  OF  THE  EMPIRE 

For  Laure  d'Aumenier  to  marry  Marteau  was  im 
possible.  The  Marquis  would  never  consent.  He 
was  her  legal  guardian,  the  head  of  her  race.  Mar 
riage  without  his  consent  was  unthinkable.  Lov 
ing  Marteau  she  would  fain  not  marry  Yeovil;  yet 
her  troth  being  plighted  in  the  most  public  manner 
and  with  her  consent,  the  Marquis  would  force  her 
to  keep  her  word.  She  knew  exactly  the  pressure 
that  would  be  brought  to  bear  upon  her.  Although 
she  had  lost  some  of  the  pride  of  her  ancestors, 
she  could  see  the  situation  from  their  point  of  view. 
There  was  a  deadlock  before  her  and  there  ap 
peared  to  be  no  way  of  breaking  it. 

It  was  a  wild  night  outside.  The  rain  beat  upon 
the  casement  windows  of  the  old  castle.  The  tem 
pest  without  seemed  fit  accompaniment  to  the  tem 
pest  within,  thought  the  woman. 

A  long  tune  she  lay  thinking,  planning,  hoping, 
praying;  alike  unavailingly.  Toward  morning,  ut 
terly  exhausted  by  the  violence  of  her  emotions, 
the  scene  she  had  gone  through — and  it  had  been  a 
torture  to  stand  and  receive  the  townspeople  after 
the  departure  of  Marteau — she  fell  at  last  into  a 
troubled  sleep. 

She  was  awakened  by  a  slight  sound,  as  of  a  light 
footstep.  She  enjoyed  the  faculty  of  awakening 
with  full  command  of  her  senses  at  once.  She 
parted  the  curtains  of  the  bed.  With  her  eyes 
wide  open,  holding  her  breath,  she  listened.  She 
heard  soft  movements.  There  was  someone  in  the 
room! 

Laure  d'Aumenier,  as  has  been  said,  had  been 


THE  EAGLE'S  FLIGHT         249 

trained  to  self-reliance.  She  could  wield  a  sword 
expertly  and  was  an  accurate  shot  with  a  firearm. 
She  could  ride  with  any  woman  in  England.  She 
had,  in  full,  the  intrepidity  and  courage  of  her  an 
cestors.  Her  prowess,  so  strange  and  so  unusual  in 
that  day  in  a  woman,  had  been  a  subject  of  disap 
proval  on  the  part  of  her  uncle,  but  Sir  Gervaise 
Yeovil  and  his  son  had  viewed  it  with  delight. 
Frank  Yeovil  had  brought  her  from  Spain  a  beauti 
ful  Toledo  blade  and  a  pair  of  Spanish  dueling 
pistols,  light,  easily  handled  and  of  deadly  accuracy. 
The  blade  hung  from  a  peg  in  the  wall  by  the  head 
of  her  bed.  The  pistols  lay  in  a  case  on  the  table 
upon  which  her  lighted  bedroom  candle  stood.  They 
were  charged  and  ready  for  use. 

Throwing  back  the  cover  without  a  sound,  pres 
ently  she  stepped  through  the  hangings  and  out  on 
the  floor.  A  loose  wrapper  lay  at  the  foot  of  the 
bed,  which  was  a  tall  old  four-poster,  heavily  cur 
tained.  Whoever  was  in  the  room  was  on  the  other 
side  of  the  bed,  near  the  wall.  The  curtains  hung 
between. 

She  was  as  light  as  a  bird  in  her  movements.  She 
drew  the  bed-gown  nearer,  thrust  her  feet  into 
heelless  slippers,  placed  convenient  for  her  morning 
rising  by  her  maid,  opened  the  box  of  pistols,  lifted 
one  of  them,  examining  it  on  the  instant  to  see 
that  it  was  ready  for  use,  slipped  on  the  wrapper, 
stepped  toward  the  foot  of  the  bed  and  waited. 

The  beat  of  the  rain,  the  shriek  of  the  wind,  the 
roar  of  the  thunder  filled  the  room  with  sound,  but 
the  woman  had  good  ears  and  they  were  well  trained. 


250    THE  EAGLE  OF  THE  EMPIRE 

She  could  hear  someone  softly  moving.  Sometimes, 
in  lulls  in  the  storm,  she  thought  she  could  detect 
heavy  breathing. 

The  natural  impulse  of  the  ordinary  woman  would 
have  been  to  scream  or  if  not  that,  having  gained 
the  floor,  to  rush  to  the  door,  or  if  not  that  to  pull 
the  bell  cord  and  summon  help.  But  Laure  d'Aume- 
nier  was  not  an  ordinary  woman.  She  knew  that 
any  sound  would  bring  aid  and  rescue  at  once. 
There  would  be  plenty  of  time  to  scream,  to  pull 
the  bell  or  to  do  whatever  was  necessary  later.  And 
something,  she  could  not  tell  what,  something  she 
could  not  recognize,  impelled  her  to  take  the  course 
she  did;  to  wait,  armed. 

But  the  wait  began  to  tell  on  her  sensibilities. 
The  sound  of  somebody  or  something  moving  mys 
teriously  to-and-fro  behind  the  curtains  over  against 
the  wall  at  the  other  end  of  the  room  began  to  work 
on  her  nerves.  It  takes  an  iron  steadiness,  a  passive 
capacity  for  endurance  which  is  quite  different  from 
woman's  more  or  less  emotional  courage,  to  wait 
under  circumstances  like  that. 

Just  when  she  had  reached  the  limit  of  her  en 
durance  and  was  persuaded  that  she  could  stand 
no  more,  her  attention  was  attracted  by  a  slight 
click  as  of  a  lock  or  catch,  a  movement  as  of  some 
thing  heavy,  as  of  a  drawer  or  door,  and  then  the 
footsteps  turned  and  came  toward  the  window. 
The  moment  of  action  had  arrived  and  with  it  came 
the  return  of  her  wavering  courage. 

To  reach  the  window  the  intruder  must  pass  by 
the  foot  of  the  bed  where  she  stood.  Now  the  light 


THE   LITTLE   COUNTESS  TAKES  ARMS  FOR  HER  DEFENCE. 


THE  EAGLE'S  FLIGHT         251 

was  on  the  table  at  the  head  of  the  bed  and  the 
table  was  far  enough  from  the  bed  to  shine  past 
her  into  the  room.  The  moving  figure  suddenly 
came  into  view.  It  was  a  man,  shrouded  in  a  heavy 
cloak.  He  did  not  glance  toward  the  bed.  His  eyes 
were  fixed  on  the  window.  His  astonishment,  there 
fore,  was  overwhelming  when  he  suddenly  found 
himself  looking  into  the  barrel  of  a  pistol  and  con 
fronted  by  a  woman. 


CHAPTER   XXII 

IN  THE  COUNTESS   LAURE's  BED-CHAMBER 

THAT  astonishment  was  so  great  when  the  man 
recognized  the  woman  that  he  threw  up  his  hands 
and  stepped  backward.  As  he  did  so  his  sodden 
cloak,  which  he  had  gathered  closely  around  him, 
opened  and  fell.  The  next  instant  his  hand  tore 
his  hat  from  his  head  and  he  stood  revealed  in  the 
full  light  of  the  candle. 

"Marteau!"  exclaimed  the  woman  in  a  surprise 
and  dismay  equal  to  that  of  the  man  she  con 
fronted. 

Her  arm  that  held  the  pistol  dropped  weakly  to 
her  side.  With  the  other  hand  she  drew  the  pei 
gnoir  about  her,  a  vivid  crimson  wave  rushed  over 
her  whole  body.  To  surprise  a  man,  a  thief,  in  her 
room  at  night,  was  one  thing;  to  confront  the  man 
she  loved  in  such  a  guise  was  another.  Her  heart 
rose  in  her  throat.  For  a  moment  she  thought  she 
would  have  fainted. 

"You!  You!"  she  choked  out  brokenly.  "Mon 
Dieu!" 

"Mademoiselle,"  began  the  man  desperately,  his 
confusion  and  dismay  growing  with  every  flying  mo 
ment,  "I— 

"What  do  you  here,"  she  went  on  impetuously, 
252 


THE  EAGLE'S  FLIGHT         253 

finding  voice,  "in  my  bedroom  at  night?  I  thought 
you " 

"For  God's  sake  hear  me.  I  came  to "  and 

then  he  stopped  lamely  and  in  agonized  embar 
rassment. 

"For  what  did  you  come?"  she  insisted. 

"Mademoiselle,"  he  said,  throwing  his  head  up, 
"I  cannot  tell  you.  But  when  I  was  stationed  here 
before  this  was  the  bedroom  of  the  Commanding- 
Officer.  I  supposed  it  was  so  still.  I  had  not  the 
faintest  idea  that  you — that  it  was " 

"And  what  would  you  do  in  the  bedroom  of  the 
Commanding-Officer?"  asked  the  woman,  forgetting 
for  the  moment  the  strangeness  of  the  situation  in 
her  anxiety  to  solve  the  problem. 

"And  that,  I  repeat,  I  cannot  tell." 

"Not  even  to  me,  who "  she  stopped  in  turn. 

"Yes,  yes,  go  on,"  urged  the  young  man,  stepping 
nearer  to  her.  "Not  even  to  you  who " 

"Who  espoused  your  cause  in  the  hall  this  very 
night,  who  befriended  you,"  she  went  on  rather 
lamely  and  inadequately  having  checked  herself  in 
time. 

"Oh,"  said  the  young  officer  in  great  disappoint 
ment,  "that?" 

"Yes." 

"You  see,  the  Governor " 

"Did  you  wish  to  kill  him?" 

"Mademoiselle!"  he  protested.  "I  swear  to  you 
that  I  would  not  harm  him  for  the  world  but  I " 

"Are  you  in  need?  He  offered  you  money.  I 
have  a  few  resources." 


254    THE  EAGLE  OF  THE  EMPIRE 

"For  God's  sake,  mademoiselle,"  interposed  the 
officer  desperately,  but  she  went  resolutely  on. 

"Whatever  I  have  is  yours.  See "  she  stripped 

rings  from  her  fingers  and  proffered  them — "take 
them." 

"Mademoiselle,"  said  the  young  man  sadly,  "you 
wrong  me." 

"Well,  if  it  was  not  for  murder  or  for  gain,  for 
what  cause  did  you  take  so  frightful  a  risk?" 

"Is  there  no  other  motive,  mademoiselle,  that 
makes  men  risk  their  lives  than  revenge  or  greed?" 

"What  do  you  mean?" 

"Love." 

"But  you  said  you  did  not  know  this  was  my 
room!" 

The  words  came  from  her  impetuously  and  before 
she  thought  she  realized  when  it  was  too  late. 

"Ah,  mademoiselle,  love  of  woman  is  a  great  pas 
sion.  I  know  it  only  too  well,  too  sadly.  But  it 
is  not  the  only  love." 

"Have  you  another  in  your  heart?"  asked  the 
Countess  with  a  sinking  in  her  own. 

"Love  of  honor." 

"I  don't  understand." 

"And  yet  I  know  that  you  are  the  very  soul  of 
honor  yourself." 

"I  thank  you,  but " 

"Mademoiselle,"  said  the  young  man,  coming  to 
a  sudden  resolution,  "appearances  are  frightfully 
against  me.  That  I  should  be  here,  in  your  room, 
at  this  hour  of  the  night,  under  the  circumstances, 
condemns  me  utterly  in  your  opinion,  especially 


THE  EAGLE'S  FLIGHT         255 

as  I  have  offered  no  adequate  explanation.  I  am 
about  to  throw  myself  on  your  mercy,  to  trust  to 
your  honor." 

"You  shall  not  trust  in  vain,  monsieur." 

"I  know  that.  I  trusted  to  your  honor  in  the 
Chateau  d'Aumenier  and  you  did  not  fail  me  then." 

"Nor  will  I  now." 

"Will  you  give  me  your  word  not  to  reveal  what 
I  tell  you,  and  not  to  make  use  of  the  knowledge 
I  communicate,  until  I  give  you  leave?" 

"Does  it  concern  the  honor  or  the  welfare  of  those 
I  love?" 

"You  mean  that  Englishman?" 

"I  do  not  love — I  mean  the  Marquis,  my  uncle." 

"It  does  not,"  said  the  young  man,  noting  with 
throbbing  heart  the  broken  sentence. 

"Then  I  give  my  promise.     Speak." 

"I  came  here  to  conceal  something,  mademoi 
selle." 

"What?" 

"An  emblem." 

"Yours?" 

"The  Emperor's." 

"You  mean " 

"The  Eagle  of  the  Fifth-regiment-of-the-Line." 

"Why  here?" 

"It  is  a  long  story.  I  brought  it  back,  having 
fished  it  out  of  the  river  Aube,  where  it  had  lain 
since  that  day " 

"When  I  thought  you  killed,"  said  the  young 
woman,  her  hand  pressed  to  her  heart. 

"And  were  you  sorry?" 


256    THE  EAGLE  OF  THE  EMPIRE 

"Sony?     I But  go  on." 

"I  showed  it  to  the  officers  of  the  regiment  to 
night  at  Major  Lestoype's  quarters.  We  were  dis 
covered.  The  matter  was  reported  to  your  uncle. 
Rather  than  give  up  the  Eagle  I  said  that  I  would 
hide  it." 

"And  why  here?" 

"Because  being  as  I  thought  the  quarters  of  the 
Commanding-Officer  it  would  be  the  last  place  in 
Grenoble  where  it  would  be  sought." 

"And  where  did  you  hide  it?" 

"Back  of  one  of  the  drawers  in  the  cupboard 
yonder." 

"And  how  did  you  know  of  the  place?" 

"I  was  stationed  here  when  I  first  joined  the 
regiment.  The  chateau  was  untenanted.  I  ram 
bled  all  over  it.  I  explored  its  nooks  and  corners. 
I  discovered  that  secret  hiding  place  by  chance  and 
now  the  Eagle  is  there." 

"And  there  it  shall  remain  until  it  is  discovered 
or  until  you  give  me  leave  to  produce  it,"  said  the 
girl  firmly. 

"I  have  your  promise?" 

"You  know  well  that  I  shall  keep  it." 

"I  thank  you,  mademoiselle.  Twice  you  have 
saved  my  life  and  now,  what  is  more  to  me  than 
life,  the  emblem  of  my  faith  as  a  soldier,  the  honor 
of  my  regiment." 

"But  why  keep  it,  this  Eagle,  at  all,"  asked  the 
girl,  "and  run  this  risk?" 

"It  may  be  needed  again." 

"But  by  whom?"  '  *, 


THE  EAGLE'S  FLIGHT         257 

"The  Emperor." 

"The  name  is  forbid." 

"But  the  man  is  not." 

"Ah,  you  think  he  will  return?" 

"I  do." 

"And  when?" 

"Mademoiselle  has  all  my  secrets.  I  am  in  her 
power  absolutely.  Why  keep  anything  from  her?" 

"Why,  indeed?"  assented  the  woman,  thrilling  to 
the  acknowledgment  of  her  power  over  the  man 
she  loved  as  any  woman  would. 

"When  the  violets  bloom  again,"  said  the  young 
man,  bowing.  "Now,  mademoiselle,  I  am  at  your 
service,"  he  resumed  as  she  stared  at  him. 

"At  my  service?    What  do  you  mean?" 

"You  have  caught  me  here  in  your  room.  You 
have  only  to  call  out  to  summon  assistance.  I  shall 
be  removed  from  your  pathway  forever." 

"But  the  Eagle?" 

"I  shall  find  means  before  I  die  to  tell  someone 
where  to  look  for  it  if  it  should  be  needed." 

"And  I  am  to  condemn  you  to  death?" 

"Why  not?"  said  the  young  man.  "I  only  lived 
to  bring  it  back.  I  never  dreamed  that  I  was  to 
have  the  happiness  of  seeing  you  again." 

"Happiness?  This  anguish?"  murmured  the 
young  woman  in  daring  self -revelation. 

She  had  forgot  the  hour,  her  dress,  the  strange 
ness  of  the  situation,  the  awful  impropriety  of  it 
all,  the  possibility  of  discovery.  She  only  saw  the 
man  she  loved.  She  saw  how  he  loved  her.  She 


258    THE  EAGLE  OF  THE  EMPIRE 

hung  upon  his  words,  and  would  fain  hear  more — 
more! 

"My  God!"  he  responded  with  a  sort  of  fierce 
pride  that  was  almost  arrogant.  "Although  I  was 
born  a  peasant,  mademoiselle,  not  the  finest  gen 
tleman  in  France  or  England  could  love  you  as  I 
do.  Yet  it  is  impossible  for  you  to  love  me  now 
that  the  Emperor  is  no  longer  here.  Your  uncle 
would  never  consent.  You,  yourself,  love  that  Eng 
lish  gentleman.  Why  give  thought  to  Marteau? 
Summon  assistance,  deliver  me  up  and  remember  me 
as  one  who  loved  you  with  all  the  fervor  of  his 
heart,  or  forget  me,  if  you  can." 

"I  would  not  have  you  die,"  said  the  woman, 
shuddering.  "God  forbid." 

"It  is  best  so.    Life  holds  nothing  for  me  now." 

"But  if  the  violets  bloom  again?"  asked  the  other. 

"Ah!"  exclaimed  the  man,  throwing  up  his  hands 
and  drawing  a  long  breath.  "Then!" 

"How  came  you  here,  monsieur?" 

"By  that  window  there.  There  is  a  ladder  with 
out.  It  reaches  most  of  the  way.  I  am  a  good 
climber.  The  ivy " 

"Go  as  you  came.    None  shall  be  the  wiser." 

"To  you  always  the  disposition  of  my  life,  ma 
demoiselle,"  said  Marteau  simply.  "I  obey  your 
command.  Farewell.  It  is  but  a  postponement, 
anyway,"  he  added  as  he  turned  away.  "I  can 
never  escape  from  Grenoble.  They  will  seize  me 
sooner  or  later  and " 

"Stay!"  she  cried. 

Moved  by  an  unaccountable  impulse  the  girl  took 


THE  EAGLE'S  FLIGHT         259 

a  step  nearer  to  him.  She  loosened  her  clutch  upon 
her  garment  and  held  out  her  hands  to  him. 

"If  it  is  to  be  farewell/'  she  said  tenderly,  "know 
that  I  do  not  love  that  English  Captain,  no,  and 
that  I- 

He  seized  her  hand  and  covered  it  with  kisses. 

"I  can  die  with  better  grace  now,"  he  said  at 
last. 

Not  daring  to  trust  himself  further  he  turned  to 
the  window  again.  As  he  put  his  hand  on  the  lock 
of  the  casement  he  heard  shouts  and  cries  outside, 
he  saw  torches.  Escape  that  way  was  barred.  The 
whole  castle  seemed  suddenly  to  awake.  He  re 
alized  it  all  in  a  moment.  He  had  been  traced  there. 
In  another  minute  he  would  be  discovered  in  the 
Countess's  room  at  that  hour  of  the  morning.  He 
turned  swiftly  to  the  dismayed  girl. 

"They  are  there,"  he  said.    "Escape  is  cut  off." 

Steps  and  voices  resounded  in  the  corridor. 

"Quick,"  she  said,  "the  closet  yonder — you  can 
hide." 

She  understood  the  peril  as  well  as  he. 

"And  bring  disgrace  upon  you  when  they  caught 
me?  Never!" 

"Marteau,  for  God's  sake,  I  love  you,"  said  the 
woman  agonizingly.  "I  cannot " 

She  stretched  out  her  hands  to  him  again.  Very 
lovely  she  looked,  the  peignoir  falling  from  her  white 
shoulders,  the  soft  candle-light  illuminating  and 
yet  concealing  in  its  vague  shadows  the  beauty  of 
face  and  figure.  Marteau  did  not  dare  to  dwell  upon 
that.  He  must  act  and  instantly.  He  rushed 


260    THE  EAGLE  OF  THE  EMPIRE 

toward  the  woman.  He  caught  her  by  the  hand. 
He  even  shook  her  a  little. 

"Shriek,"  he  whispered  in  her  ear. 

He  picked  up  the  pistol  from  the  bed  upon  which 
she  had  thrown  it  and  pointing  it  upward  pulled 
the  trigger.  Startled  by  his  utterly  unexpected  ac 
tion,  the  meaning  of  which  she  could  not  fathom,  she 
did  scream  loudly.  The  next  instant  the  door  was 
thrown  open  and  into  the  room  half  clad,  sword  in 
hand,  burst  the  Marquis.  With  him  were  Sir  Ger- 
vaise  Yeovil  and  the  young  Captain,  and  attend 
ing  them  were  servants  and  guards  bearing  lights. 

The  Marquis  stared  from  his  niece  back  to  the 
young  officer. 

"My  God!"  he  exclaimed.    "Is  it  you?" 

Marteau  could  only  bow.  He  had  a  few  seconds 
to  make  up  his  mind,  a  few  seconds  to  decide  upon 
the  role  he  must  play.  Well,  his  life  was  certainly 
forfeit,  his  reputation  he  would  also  give  for  hers. 
Any  explanation  that  he  could  make  would  be  dis 
believed  unless,  of  course,  he  produced  the  Eagle, 
which  was  not  to  be  thought  of.  Failing  the  Eagle 
the  more  he  endeavored  to  account  for  his  presence 
the  more  deeply  would  he  involve  the  woman  he 
loved. 

"I  find  you  here,  you  that  I  treated  almost 
like  a  gentleman,  who,  I  thought,  nearly  measured 
up  to  the  title,  in  my  niece's  room  at  this  hour  of 
the  morning,"  continued  the  enraged  old  man. 
"Laure,  has  he — has  he  harmed  you?" 

"You  came  too  quickly,  monsieur,"  answered  Mar 
teau,  himself,  giving  the  young  woman  time  to 


THE  EAGLE'S  FLIGHT         261 

recover  herself.  "You  heard  the  pistol  shot."  He 
threw  the  weapon  from  him.  "We  were  struggling. 
It  went  off  and — 

"You  damned  low-born  coward,"  gritted  out  the 
English  officer,  stepping  toward  him  furious  with 
anger. 

"Steady,  Frank.  There  is  something  strange 
about  this,"  said  Sir  Gervaise  gloomily,  catching  his 
son  by  the  arm.  "He  is  no  coward.  That  I'll  war 
rant." 

"But  to  seek  entry  into  a  woman's  bed-chamber!" 
continued  Frank  furiously.  "If  you  were  a  gentle 
man  I'd " 

"That  'almost/  "  said  Marteau,  "saves  me  in  this 
instance." 

"I  feel  this  action  almost  as  if  it  had  been  my 
own  son,  had  God  blessed  me  with  one,"  said  the 
old  Marquis,  slowly  recovering  his  self-command. 
"A  loyal  Marteau,  a  thief,  a  despoiler  of  women! 
Why,  she  knelt  to  you  in  the  hall.  She  raised  her 

voice  in  your  defense,  and  now  you — you "  His 

fingers  twitched.  "  The  Count  d'Aumenier/  "  he 
added  in  bittery  mockery.  "You  could  not  bear 
the  title  if  it  had  been  left  in  your  hand.  I  shall 
have  you  branded  as  a  thief  in  the  morning  and " 

"My  uncle,"  said  the  woman,  "he " 

"Mademoiselle,"  interposed  Marteau  sharply, 
resolved  to  protect  her  at  all  hazards,  "is  not  my 
case  black  enough  without  further  testimony  from 
you?  I  beseech  you  to  be  silent." 

"Speak,  Laure,"  said  the  old  Marquis.    "If  you 


262    THE  EAGLE  OF  THE  EMPIRE 

have  anything  to  say  which  will  make  his  punish 
ment  surer  and  harder,  I  charge  you  to  say  it." 

"Nothing,  nothing,"  answered  the  poor  young 
woman.  "Oh,  if  ever  a  woman's  soul  was  tor 
tured " 

"You  tortured  her,  did  you?"  cried  the  English 
man,  struggling  in  his  father's  arms.  "I  once 
thought  of  meeting  you  in  the  field — you — you!  I 
would  like  to  strangle  you  with  my  bare  hands." 

"It  is  just.  I  honor  monsieur  for  his  rage.  It  is 
true,  I  love  the  woman,  and " 

"Is  this  the  way  a  gentleman  shows  his  affection?" 
roared  out  the  English  captain. 

"Monsieur  forgets  that  I  am  almost,  not  quite,  a 
gentleman." 

"And  there  is  another  score  we  have  to  settle  with 
you,"  cried  the  Marquis.  "That  cursed  Eagle — 
where  is  it?" 

"Before  I  sought  mademoiselle,"  said  Marteau,  "I 
placed  it  in  safety  and  in  such  keeping  as  will  watch 
over  it.  You  will  never  find  it.  It  will  only  be 
produced  when" — he  stopped — "when  the  violets 
bloom  again." 

"What  is  this  damned  nonsense  about  flowers  I 
hear  everywhere?"  burst  out  Sir  Gervaise. 

"Well,  monsieur,"  said  the  Marquis,  "it  will  be 
produced  before  that  time,  or  when  the  violets  do 
bloom  they  will  find  some  red  soil  out  of  which  to 
spring." 

"You  mean " 

"As  I  live  I  will  have  you  court-martialed  in  the 
morning  and  shot  for  high  treason.  I  stand  for  the 


THE  EAGLE'S  FLIGHT         263 

King,  for  the  ancient  laws  of  France.  I  will  have 
no  paltering  with  traitors,  and  I  am  more  inclined 
to  deal  swiftly  and  summarily  with  you  since  to  trea 
son  you  add  theft  and  this  attempt  upon  a  woman. 
Produce  that  Eagle,  or  you  die." 

"I  must  die,  then,"  said  the  young  man. 

"By  heaven,"  said  Sir  Gervaise,  looking  keenly  at 
the  officer,  "there  is  more  in  this  than  I  can  under 
stand.  Give  me  leave,  my  lord,"  he  turned  to  Mar- 
teau.  "I  have  liked  you  always.  I  would  befriend 
you  now.  I  do  not  believe  in  appearances-  always. 
Can  you  not  explain?" 

"Sir,"  said  Marteau,  "I  am  grateful  to  find  one 
here  who  still  believes '  He  stopped.  "The  cir 
cumstances  speak  for  themselves.  I  love  mademoi 
selle.  I  was  mad.  I  came  here,  I " 

"Gentlemen,"  said  the  Marquis,  "let  us  withdraw. 
It  is  scandalous  that  we  should  be  here  under  such 
circumstances.  You,  sir,"  he  turned  to  Marteau. 
"this  way." 

The  poor  Countess  had  stood  in  agony  and  de 
spair.  Marteau  did  not  look  at  her.  He  bent  his 
head  low  as  he  passed  her.  Two  soldiers  of  the 
guard  grasped  him  by  the  arms,  the  rest  closed  about 
him. 

"Go,  gentlemen.  I  will  see  you  presently,"  said 
the  Marquis.  "One  of  you  servants  yonder  send 
the  Countess's  women  here." 

"I  thank  God,"  said  young  Yeovil,  "that  we  got 
here  in  time.  If  he  had  harmed  you,  dearest  Laure, 
I  would  have  killed  him  here  where  he  stood." 

Her  lover  attempted  to  take  her  hand,  but  she 


264    THE  EAGLE  OF  THE  EMPIRE 

shrank  away  from  him.  As  Sir  Gervaise  passed  her 
she  bent  forward  and  seized  the  old  Baronet's  hand 
and  kissed  it.  He,  at  least,  had  seen  that  there  was 
something  beneath  the  surface. 

"Now,  my  child,"  said  the  old  Marquis  kindly, 
but  with  fearful  sternness,  as  the  door  closed  behind 
the  others,  "what  have  you  to  add  to  what  has  been 
told?" 

"What  do  you  mean?" 

"I  know  men.  I  know  that  that  young  man  did 
not  come  here  to  assault  you,  or  for  robbery.  You 
cannot  tell  me  that  the  blood  of  the  Marteaux  runs 
in  his  veins  for  nothing.  And  I  know  you  did  not 
invite  him  here,  either.  You  are  a  d'Aumenier. 
What  is  the  explanation  of  it  all?" 

But  the  poor  little  Countess  made  no  answer. 
She  slowly  collapsed  on  the  floor  at  the  feet  of  the 
iron  old  man,  who,  to  save  her  honor  and  reputation, 
had  played  his  part,  even  as  Marteau,  in  her  bed 
room  on  that  mad  March  morning. 


CHAPTER   XXIII 

THE    MARQUIS    GRANTS   AN    INTERVIEW 

THE  old  Marquis  was  face  to  face  with  a  terribly 
difficult  problem.  That  the  Eagle  had  been  brought 
back  did  not  admit  of  doubt.  St.  Laurent  had  seen 
it,  and  the  officers  who  had  been  present  at  the  mid 
night  meeting  in  the  Major's  rooms  made  no  attempt 
whatever  to  deny  it.  Marteau  admitted  it.  But  it 
had  disappeared.  He  had  not  the  faintest  idea  where 
it  was.  The  most  rigorous  search  had  so  far  failed 
to  discover  it.  Marteau  had  been  questioned,  ap 
pealed  to,  threatened,  with  no  results  whatsoever. 
His  lips  were  sealed  and  no  pressure  that  could  be 
brought  to  bear  sufficed  to  open  them.  He  did  not 
deny  that  he  knew  where  the  Eagle  was.  He  sim 
ply  remained  silent,  immutably  silent,  when  he  was 
asked  where. 

From  the  few  loyalist  officers  in  the  regiments  and 
in  the  town  a  court  had  been  convened  and  Marteau 
had  been  put  on  trial.  He  had  been  found  guilty — 
indeed,  there  was  no  other  verdict  possible,  since 
he  calmly  admitted  everything — of  treason,  dis 
obedience  of  orders,  a  whole  catalogue  of  crimes. 
The  Marquis  acted  on  the  old  feudal  idea  that  he 
possessed  all  the  rights  of  the  ancient  nobility,  the 
high  and  low,  the  middle  justice.  And,  indeed,  he 

265 


266    THE  EAGLE  OF  THE  EMPIRE 

represented  the  King  with  full  powers.  The  court, 
completely  under  his  influence,  had  condemned  the 
young  soldier  to  death.  Marteau  might  have  ap 
pealed,  he  might  have  protested,  but  he  did  neither. 
He  accepted  the  inevitable.  What  was  the  differ 
ence?  No  appeal  would  have  been  entertained,  no 
protest  would  have  availed.  It  all  came  to  this,  he 
would  either  have  to  give  up  the  Eagle  or  his  life. 

Well,  life  was  not  worth  very  much  to  him,  as  he 
had  said.  Even  though  he  realized  from  her  des 
perate  avowal  of  the  night  before  that  the  interest 
of  the  Countess  in  him  was  more  than  she  would 
have  admitted,  had  not  the  words  been  surprised 
and  wrung  from  her  by  his  deadly  peril,  he  knew 
that  there  was  absolutely  nothing  to  be  hoped  for 
in  that  direction.  Even  though  his  comrades, 
alarmed  by  the  imminence  of  his  danger,  and 
aroused  by  the  energetic  determination  of  the  old 
Marquis,  besought  him  to  give  up  the  Eagle,  he 
refused.  He  would  have  considered  himself  a  for 
sworn  man  had  he  done  so. 

The  Marquis  had  visited  the  prisoner  and  had 
condescended  to  make  a  personal  appeal  to  him, 
imploring  him  by  that  old  duty  and  friendship  which 
had  subsisted  between  the  families,  but  his  appeals 
had  been  as  fruitless  as  his  commands  and  his 
threats.  The  old  noble  was  iron  hard.  He  had  no 
sympathy  with  the  Empire  or  its  Emperor,  but  the 
determination  of  the  young  officer  did  arouse  a  cer 
tain  degree  of  admiration.  He  would  fain  have 
spared  him  if  he  could,  but,  as  he  had  sacrificed 
everything  he  possessed  for  the  King,  and  counted 


THE  EAGLE'S  FLIGHT         267 

the  sacrifice  as  nothing,  his  sympathies  did  not  abate 
his  determination  to  punish  treason  and  contumacy 
one  whit. 

The  Marquis  was  accustomed  to  having  things  his 
own  way,  and  the  long  period  of  exile  had  not 
changed  his  natural  bent  of  mind  in  that  particular. 
He  was  angry,  too,  at  the  stubbornness  which  he 
nevertheless  admired.  In  other  directions  the  Mar 
quis  was  balked.  He  had  seen  through  the  little 
drama  that  had  been  played  by  Marteau  and  the 
Countess  Laure  in  her  bedchamber.  That  was  one 
reason  why  he  would  fain  have  saved  him,  because 
he  had  so  gallantly  allowed  himself  to  occupy  the 
hideous  role  which  he  had  assumed,  to  save  the  girl's 
honor.  The  Marquis  had  not  the  faintest  suspicion 
that  there  was  anything  wrong  in  the  situation,  or 
even  that  his  niece  had  actually  given  her  heart  to 
this  man.  Such  a  thought  could  not  be  entertained 
at  all. 

It  was  inconceivable,  but  he  knew  that,  however 
innocent  might  have  been  that  meeting,  if  it  had 
been  prearranged  the  world  would  consider  the 
Countess  disgraced,  unless  the  explanation  which 
Marteau  had  suggested  was  allowed  to  become  cur 
rent.  He  had  summoned  his  niece  before  him,  and 
had  sought  in  every  way  to  force  her  to  tell  him  the 
whole  truth,  but  she  had  partaken,  in  some  degree, 
of  Marteau's  stubbornness.  All  she  would  say  was 
that  Marteau  was  innocent  of  any  crime  or  any 
wrong.  But,  when  the  bewildered  Marquis  asked 
her  if  she  had  invited  him  there,  and  if  he  was  there 
by  her  permission,  she  had  indignantly  repudiated 


268    THE  EAGLE  OF  THE  EMPIRE 

the  suggestion  as  an  insult,  which  left  him  more 
puzzled  than  before. 

The  idea  that  Marteau  had  come  there  to  hide 
the  Eagle  had  never  entered  the  Marquis'  mind  for 
all  his  acuteness.  He  had  asked  the  girl  whether 
Marteau  had  brought  anything  into  the  room  or 
taken  anything  from  it,  and  she  had  answered  truth 
fully  that  when  she  saw  him  he  had  been  exactly  as 
when  they  saw  him.  The  testimony  of  the  Marquis 
and  the  two  Englishmen  rendered  it  unnecessary 
for  the  Countess  to  be  present  at  the  court-martial. 
There  was  nothing  material  she  could  add,  and,  in 
deed,  it  was  not  for  attempted  theft,  or  assault,  that 
Marteau  had  been  condemned — the  Marquis  had 
suppressed  that  as  much  as  possible — but  for  his 
conduct  with  the  Eagle. 

It  was  the  fifth  of  March,  a  warm  and  sunny  day 
in  the  south  of  France,  even  amid  the  mountains 
and  hills  of  ancient  Dauphine.  Great  things  were 
toward,  although  the  Marquis  did  not  yet  know  it. 
The  execution  of  the  condemned  was  set  for  the 
next  day.  At  ten  o'clock  in  the  morning  the  regi 
ment  was  to  be  paraded  and  Marteau  was  to  be 
shot.  He  had  asked  that  he  might  be  granted  a  sol 
dier's  death,  and  the  Marquis  had  seen  fit  to  grant 
the  request. 

There  were  very  few  troops  in  Grenoble  which 
could  be  counted  as  loyal  to  the  King,  but  there  were 
some.  From  them  the  Marquis  intended  to  draw 
his  firing  party,  and  with  them  he  intended  to  over 
awe  the  regiment  if  there  should  be  any  outbreak. 
He  was  too  keen  a  judge  of  humanity,  and  too  well 


THE  EAGLE'S  FLIGHT         269 

able  to  read  the  characters  of  men  not  to  realize 
the  whole  regiment  was  in  a  mutinous  temper  over 
the  Eagle  episode,  that  they  looked  upon  Marteau 
as  a  martyr,  and  that  there  might  be  outbreaks  and 
grave  difficulties  before  he  was  shot.  Well,  difficul 
ties  did  not  daunt  the  stout-hearted,  inflexible  old 
noble.  He  rather  enjoyed  them.  He  rather  wel 
comed  this  occasion,  too,  because  he  intended  to  be 
master  now,  and,  having  once  mastered  the  regi 
ment,  he  felt  he  would  have  no  difficulty  in  con 
trolling  it  in  any  future  emergency. 

To  him,  as  he  sat  in  his  cabinet  maturing  his  plans 
for  the  morrow,  came  a  message  from  his  niece,  ask 
ing  admittance.  The  privilege  was,  of  course,  in 
stantly  granted,  and  Laure  d'Aumenier  presently  en 
tered  the  room. 

"Have  you  come,  my  child,"  began  the  old  man, 
regarding  her  tenderly,  for  in  the  few  years  she  had 
been  with  him  he  had  learned  to  estimate  the  worth 
of  her  character  and  iove  her  as  she  deserved,  "to 
explain  this  mystery,  to  tell  me  why  you  declare 
that  the  presence  of  a  man  in  the  room  of  a  woman 
of  my  house  at  three  o'clock  in  the  morning  is  inno 
cent?  I  repeat,"  he  went  on  reassuringly,  "that  I 
cannot  conceive  of  or  admit  any  wrong  on  your  part, 
and  that  makes  the  situation  more  impossible  of 
explanation." 

"My  uncle,"  answered  the  Countess,  "I  can  only 
say  that  Monsieur  Jean  Marteau  is  not  guilty,  as 
he  seems." 

"And  I  can  quite  believe  that,"  said  the  old  Mar 
quis.  "Indeed,  our  English  friend,  who  for  all  his 


270    THE  EAGLE  OF  THE  EMPIRE 

bluntness  is  not  without  discrimination  and  good 
sense,  has  said  as  much  to  me.  He  declared  with 
great  emphasis  that  there  was  something  in  it  all 
which  he  could  not  understand." 

"And  you — what  did  you  say?" 

"I  asked  him  if  that  was  meant  for  any  reflection 
on  the  honor  of  my  family,  for  if  it  were  I  should 
accord  him  the  pleasure  of  crossing  swords  with  me 
and  in  the  end  run  him  through." 

"And  he  said " 

"He  disclaimed  absolutely  the  idea.  He  is  as  con 
vinced  of  your  sweetness,  your  innocence  and  purity, 
as  I  am." 

"And  Captain  Yeovil?" 

"He  lacks  his  father's  insight  and  finesse.  He  is 
young.  He  takes  matters  as  he  sees  them,  and  fan 
cies  Marteau  the  common,  vulgar  thief  he  ap 
peared." 

"Impossible!"  cried  the  Countess.    "He  is " 

"No  doubt  he  is  not  especially  prepossessed  in 
favor  of  Monsieur  Marteau,  who  has  presumed  to 
love  you,  and  perhaps  that  accounts  for  his  willing 
ness  to  believe  anything  derogatory  of  him." 

"He  is  blind,  and  I- 

"But  you  are  not  declining  his  hand  on  that  ac 
count!" 

"No,  the  marriage  stands.  I  could  wish  that  it 
did  not,"  said  the  woman  passionately.  "I  could  be 
happier  if  he  suspected  me  of  anything,  however 
base,  and  in  his  suspicion  set  me  free." 

"Hark  ye,  Laure,"  said  the  Marquis  earnestly.  "I 
am  an  old  man,  and  the  life  I  have  led  has  not 


THE  EAGLE'S  FLIGHT         271 

served  to  maintain  my  youth.  What  I  am  engaged 
in  now  does  not  conduce  to  that  ease  of  body  and 
peace  of  mind  which  promotes  long  life.  To  you  I 
say  what  I  have  said  to  no  one  else.  We  are  stand 
ing,  as  it  were,  on  a  volcano.  The  army  is  in  no 
sense  loyal  to  the  King.  I  advised  that  it  be  dis 
banded  absolutely,  but  I  was  overruled.  It  is  seeth 
ing  with  sedition.  The  envoys  of  the  powers  at 
Vienna  are  playing,  idling,  debating  endlessly,  and 
while  they  play  and  idle  and  talk  in  their  fools' 
paradise,  the  Emperor,  he  who  is  so  called  by  mis 
guided  France,  will  return.  I  should  not  be  sur 
prised  at  any  moment  to  receive  tidings  that  he  has 
landed." 

"And  that  is  what  they  mean  when  they  speak 
about  the  violets  blooming  again?" 

"Yes,  that  is  it.  And,  do  you  know  as  I  walked 
in  the  garden  this  morning  I  found  this." 

He  tossed  the  first  tiny  purple  violet  of  the  spring 
on  the  table  before  her. 

"But  he  will  be  dead  before  the  Emperor  comes," 
murmured  the  woman,  her  hand  upon  her  heart. 

"Put  that  thought  out  of  your  mind,  my  child," 
said  the  old  man.  "Think  rather  of  Captain  Yeo- 
vil." 

"I  hate  him,"  said  the  Countess,  which  was  most 
unjust,  for  he  had  done  nothing  at  all  to  deserve 
such  an  expression  on  her  part. 

"Hate  is  the  passion  of  old  age,"  said  the  Marquis 
slowly,  "love  that  of  youth.  I  told  you  that  my  race 
would  soon  be  run.  I  am  an  old  man.  I  have  suf 
fered  much.  I  shall  be  content  to  die  if  I  can  serve 


my  King  here  a  little  after  all  these  years  of  weary 
waiting.  The  title-deeds  that  young  man  gave  back 
do  not  cover  much.  The  estate  has  been  divided 
and  granted  to  strangers.  It  is  practically  all  gone 
but  the  old  chateau.  I  have  little  or  nothing  to  leave 
you  beyond  those  small  amounts  which  your  father 
used  to  send  me,  which  I  never  would  touch  because 
they  came  from  a  disloyal  France.  The  Yeovils  are 
true  and  worthy  people.  The  boy  is  a  gallant  lad, 
a  brave  soldier,  even  if  not  overly  acute.  Sir  Ger- 
vaise  is  a  man  of  consideration  and  of  great  wealth. 
You  are  portionless.  He  is  most  generous.  I  am 
very  happy  in  the  thought  that  you  will  be  taken 
care  of.  I  know  what  it  is  to  be  alone  and  poor." 

"I  cannot  bear " 

"We  have  to  bear  a  great  many  things  that  we 
do  not  wish  to  in  this  life.  You  owe  me  some  con 
sideration.  I  still  retain  my  faith  and  confidence  in 
you.  I  have  not  pressed  you  to  the  wall  with  hard 
questions  about  last  night." 

"I  know,  I  know,  but " 

"And,  as  the  head  of  the  house,  I  must  have  even 
from  the  children  the  obedience  which  is  my  due." 

"I  do  not  wish  to  fail  in  my  duty  toward  you, 
monsieur,  but " 

"And  your  word,  the  word  of  a  d'Aumenier,  has 
been  plighted.  You  entered  into  this  engagement  of 
your  own  free  will.  There  was  no  constraint." 

"But  there  was  pressure." 

"Yes,  certainly,  I  know  what  is  best  for  you,  but 
you  were  not  forced  in  any  way,  and  your  troth, 
having  been  plighted,  your  word  given" — the  old 


THE  EAGLE'S  FLIGHT          273 

man  stopped,  looked  at  her  solemnly,  his  long  fin 
gers  tapping  lightly  on  the  table — "it  must  be 
kept,"  he  said,  with  that  air  of  absolute  finality 
which  none  could  assume  better  than  he. 

"It  shall  be,  although  it  kills  me." 

"If  I  live  I  shall  see  that  it  is;  and  if  I  die  I  have 
your  promise?" 

"You  have." 

"That  is  well.  You  will  live  to  thank  me  and  bless 
me.  I  have  fancied,  of  late,  that  your  heart  had  been 
allowed  to  decline  a  little  to  this  Marteau.  Oh,  he  is 
a  brave  man  and  true,  I  know.  I  take  no  stock  in 
his  confession  of  theft  or  assault  upon  you.  Why,  I 
would  have  cut  him  down  where  he  stood,  or  have 
him  kill  me  if  I  believed  that!  But  he  is  of  another 
race,  another  blood.  The  Eagle  does  not  stoop  to 
the  barnyard  fowl.  The  heart  of  a  woman  is  a 
strange  thing.  It  leads  her  in  strange  ways  if  she 
follows  its  impulses.  Thank  God  there  are  men  who 
can  and  will  direct  and  control  those  impulses.  Put 
him  out  of  your  mind.  It  is  best.  To-morrow  he 
will  be  a  dead  man.  At  any  rate,  I  am  rather  glad 
of  that,"  said  the  Marquis,  half  reflectively,  knowing 
what  trouble  he  might  have  made  if  he  were  to  be 
allowed  to  live  on.  It  was  cold-blooded,  but  he 
could  sacrifice  Marteau  for  his  niece's  happiness, 
and  find  abundant  justification  in  the  annals  of  his 
house,  where  he  could  read  of  many  Marteaux  who 
had  been  sacrificed  or  had  sacrificed  themselves  for 
the  d'Aumeniers. 

"I — I  will  promise,"  faltered  the  girl,  "but  on  one 
condition." 


274    THE  EAGLE  OF  THE  EMPIRE 

"I  like  it  not  when  youth  makes  conditions  with 
age.  Nevertheless,  what  is  in  your  mind?" 

"I  want  to  see  Marteau  again." 

"Impossible!" 

"Wait,"  said  the  woman  quickly.  "Is  it  not  true, 
have  I  not  heard  that  he  is  condemned  outwardly 
because  he  brought  an  Eagle  here  and  it  is  gone?" 

"Yes,  that  is  true." 

"And  has  it  not  been  said  that  if  he  produced  the 
Eagle  his  life  could  be  spared  and  he  could  go?" 

"That  is  also  true." 

"And  would  it  not  allay  the  dissatisfaction  of  the 
regiment  and  contribute  to  the  establishment  of  your 
authority  if  he  gave  it  up?" 

"My  authority  is  established  by  the  King." 

"The  maintenance  of  it,  then.  Would  it  not  en 
able  you  to  control  and  hold  in  check  these  people, 
if  you  could  show  that  you  had  not  been  balked?" 

"That  may  be,"  said  the  Marquis.    "Go  on." 

"And,  if  he  should  produce  the  Eagle " 

"I  would  save  his  life,  but  he  would  be  a  discred 
ited  man  among  his  comrades,  if  I  know  anything 
about  it" 

"Oh,  not  that,  surely." 

"Surely;  and  I  may  tell  you  that  if  I  were  in  his 
place  I  would  do  exactly  as  he  has  done." 

The  woman  stepped  nearer  and  put  her  hand  to 
her  head. 

"Nevertheless,  I  must  see  him.  Have  mercy!" 
she  entreated  piteously. 

"Why?  Do  you  think  you  can  persuade  him  to 
produce  the  Eagle — to  his  discredit,  be  it  remem- 


THE  EAGLE'S  FLIGHT         275 

bered?"  asked  the  old  man,  surveying  her  keenly, 
realizing  at  last  the  extraordinary  interest  she  took 
in  Marteau. 

"But  it  is  his  life  if  he  does  not." 

"Do  you  care  so  much  for — his  life?" 

"Yes,"  answered  the  woman,  looking  the  Marquis 
straight  in  the  eyes. 

He  recognized  a  will  as  inflexible  as  his  own.  It 
aroused  his  admiration.  He  arose  to  his  feet.  He 
bowed  before  her. 

"Mademoiselle,"  he  said  firmly,  "you  have  the 
strength  of  our  house.  Perhaps  it  might  be  well  if 
he  could  be  induced  to  produce  the  Eagle  and  be 
thus  discredited  in  the  eyes  of  his  comrades.  It 
would  tend  to  make  my  authority  more  secure.  It 
would  be  to  the  advantage  of  the  King." 

"Yes,  yes." 

"But  what  argument  can  you  bring?" 

"I— I  do  not  know." 

"Alas,  my  child,  you  know  more  than  you  will 
tell.  Oh,  I  recognize  that  it  is  useless  to  appeal, 
and  impossible  to  constrain.  Well,  you  give  me 
your  word  of  honor  that  whatever  happens  you  will 
carry  through  the  engagement  with  Captain  Yeovil, 
and  that  we  will  together  arrange  a  proper  time 
and  that  you ' 

"I  give  it." 

"Your  hand,"  said  the  Marquis.  "Without  there ! " 
He  raised  his  voice.  An  orderly  appeared.  "Send 
Monsieur  St.  Laurent  to  me." 

"Monsieur,"  continued  the  old  man,  as  the  officer 
presented  himself,  "you  will  conduct  the  Countess 


276    THE  EAGLE  OF  THE  EMPIRE 

Laure  d'Aumenier  to  the  small  drawing-room;  you 
will  leave  her  there;  you  will  then  go  to  the  guard 
house  and  bring  thence  the  prisoner,  Marteau;  you 
will  conduct  him  to  mademoiselle,  my  niece,  and  you 
will  leave  them  together  for  half  an  hour;  you  will 
see  that  the  prisoner  is  carefully  guarded,  that  sen 
tries  are  posted  outside  of  the  windows,  and  you, 
yourself,  will  remain  with  other  escort,  in  front  of 
the  door." 

"But  out  of  hearing,"  said  the  young  woman 
quickly. 

"That,  of  course.  And  on  your  honor,  on  your 
duty,  on  your  allegiance,  you  will  say  absolutely 
nothing  about  this  to  any  one.  Do  you  under 
stand?" 

"I  understand,  monsieur.  I  shall  obey,"  said  St. 
Laurent,  a  youth  of  rare  quality,  as  has  been  seen. 

"Good.  You  have  one  half-hour,  my  child.  God 
grant  that  you  may  serve  France  and  induce  this 
wretched  prisoner  to  give  up  the  Eagle.  Your  im 
pulse  of  mercy  does  you  credit,"  he  said  adroitly, 
making  the  best  of  the  situation  for  St.  Laurent's 
benefit.  "Now  you  may  go." 

"This  way,  mademoiselle,"  said  St.  Laurent,  bow 
ing  low  before  her  at  the  open  door. 

As  the  Countess  passed  down  the  long  corridor 
she  almost  ran  into  young  Pierre,  the  boy.  He  had 
been  questioned  with  the  rest,  but  had  absolutely 
nothing  to  tell.  Of  course,  he  knew  about  the  re 
covery  of  the  Eagle,  but  that  was  all.  He  had  known 
nothing  about  the  midnight  meeting.  The  Countess 
Laure  had  taken  him  into  her  service,  her  uncle  be- 


THE  EAGLE'S  FLIGHT         277 

ing  willing.  And  he  had  spent  a  miserable  day 
when  not  with  her,  wondering  and  hoping  and  pray 
ing  for  Marteau.  With  others  in  the  regiments  he 
had  received  important  news  in  the  last  hour,  and 
had  made  every  effort  to  get  it  to  Marteau,  as  had 
been  suggested  to  him,  but  he  had  hitherto  failed. 
No  sentry  would  pass  him,  and  there  was  no  way 
he  could  get  speech  with  the  prisoner. 

He  was  in  despair  when  he  saw  the  Countess 
approaching,  St.  Laurent  marching  ceremoniously 
ahead,  as  if  to  clear  the  way. 

"Mademoiselle,"  he  whispered,  plucking  her  gown. 

"What  is  it?"  asked  the  girl,  naturally  sinking 
her  voice  to  the  other's  pitch. 

"You  will  see— him?" 

"Yes." 

"A  message." 

"What  is  it?" 

"Give  him  this." 

The  boy  thrust  into  her  hand  two  or  three  flowers 
like  those  her  uncle  had  picked,  the  first  purple  blos 
soms  of  the  virgin  spring. 

"And  the  message?" 

"The  violets  have  bloomed,"  said  the  boy,  and  he 
was  gone. 


CHAPTER  XXIV 

ON  THE  WHOLE  DEATH   MAY   BE   BETTER  THAN   LIFE 

MARTEAU  realized  fully  his  position,  and  it  would 
be  idle  to  say  that  despite  his  depression  he  con 
templated  his  fate  without  regret.  Normally  he 
would  have  wanted  to  live  as  much  as  any  man, 
even  though  in  his  more  passionate  moments  he 
had  said  that  life  without  Laure  d'Aumenier  held 
nothing  for  him.  To  be  sure,  life  without  her  did 
not  look  very  inviting,  and  there  was  nothing  in  it 
for  which  he  particularly  cared,  especially  since  the 
Emperor  was  gone,  and  Marteau  had  become  a 
stranger,  as  it  were,  in  France.  If  the  Emperor  had 
come  back,  or  was  coming  back,  it  would  be  dif 
ferent. 

In  spite  of  rumors,  originating  nowhere  apparently 
and  spread  by  what  means  no  one  could  say,  that  the 
Emperor  was  coming  back,  Marteau,  in  the  de 
pressed  condition  of  his  mind,  gave  these  statements 
but  little  credence.  Besides,  even  if  they  were  true, 
even  if  Laure  d'Aumenier  loved  him,  even  if  he  had 
everything  on  earth  for  which  a  man  could  ask  or 
expect  to  live,  he  could  not  therewith  purchase  life; 
he  could  not  even  purchase  love,  at  the  expense  of 
his  honor. 

He  could  not  give  up  the  Eagle  for  the  kingdom. 
278 


THE  EAGLE'S  FLIGHT         279 

It  was  only  a  bit  of  gilded  copper,  battered  and  shat 
tered,  but  it  awakened  in  his  nature  the  most  power 
ful  emotions  which  he  was  capable  of  entertaining. 
His  love  for  Laure  d'Aumenier  was  the  great  pas 
sion  of  his  life.  Yet  even  his  love  for  the  woman, 
or  hers  for  him,  if  she  had  returned  his  devotion  with 
equal  intensity  and  ardor,  would  not  avail  to  per 
suade  him  to  give  up  that  battered  standard. 

Even  if  she  had  loved  him!  Ah,  what  had  she 
said  in  that  moment  of  madness  in  her  room  that 
night?  It  was  a  moment  of  madness,  of  course, 
nothing  else.  Marteau  put  it  out  of  his  mind,  or 
strove  to.  It  could  not  be.  Indeed,  now  that  he 
was  about  to  die,  he  would  even  admit  that  it  should 
not  be.  But,  if  it  were  true,  if  that  impulsive  decla 
ration  indicated  the  true  state  of  her  regard — the 
possibility  was  thrilling,  yet  reflection  convinced 
him  it  was  better  that  he  should  die  just  the  same, 
because  there  could  be  no  mating  between  the  two. 

He  had  crossed  swords  with  the  Marquis.  He 
had  felt  the  hardness,  the  inflexibility  and  temper  of 
the  old  man's  steel.  There  would  be  no  breaking 
him,  no  altering  his  will.  He  had  made  assurance 
doubly  sure  in  some  way,  Marteau  was  convinced. 
This  marriage  with  this  young  Englishman,  whom 
the  Frenchman  regarded  with  a  tolerant,  half- 
amused  contemptuousness  for  his  simplicity  and 
bluntness,  would  have  to  be  carried  through.  When 
Marteau  was  dead  the  Countess  would  presumably 
return  to  a  saner  frame  of  mind,  and  forget  the  mad 
attachment,  if  indeed  she  had  entertained  it. 

He  took  a  certain  melancholy  satisfaction  in  the 


280    THE  EAGLE  OF  THE  EMPIRE 

hope  that  he  would  at  least  become  one  of  her  sacred 
and  cherished  memories.  But  no  memory  can  suc 
cessfully  dispute  the  claim  of  the  living,  as  a  rule. 
She  would  eventually  marry  this  Englishman;  he 
would  make  her  a  good  husband,  and  by  and  by 
she  would  be  happy,  and  Marteau  would  not  be 
there  to  see.  And  for  that  he  would  be  glad. 

If  the  Emperor  had  been  there,  if  the  war  god 
had  come  and  summoned  his  men  to  arms  again, 
Marteau  might  have  eased  the  fever  in  his  brain  and 
soul  by  deeds  of  prowess  on  fields  of  battle,  but  in 
peace  he  should  only  eat  his  heart  out  thinking  of 
her  in  the  other  man's  arms.  There  were  things 
worse  than  death,  and  this  was  one.  On  the  whole, 
he  concluded  it  was  just  as  well,  or  even  better,  that 
he  should  die. 

He  was  sufficiently  versed  in  military  and  even 
civil  law  to  see  that  his  condemnation  was  irregular 
in  the  extreme,  but  he  let  it  go.  He  was  an  obscure 
officer  of  a  lost  cause.  There  would  not  be  any  too 
rigorous  an  inquiry  into  what  disposition  the  Mar 
quis  made  of  him.  Nobody  would  care  after  it  was 
all  over.  There  remained  nothing  for  him,  there 
fore,  but  to  die  like  a  soldier,  and — he  smiled  bit 
terly  at  the  thought — almost  a  gentleman ! 

He  had  been  informed  that  any  reasonable  re 
quest  he  made  would  be  granted.  He  would  fain 
see  a  priest  of  his  Church,  but  later,  and  endeavor 
to  make  his  peace  with  man  after  the  time-honored 
custom  of  his  religion,  and  thus  insure  his  peace 
with  God.  Meanwhile,  a  request  for  a  brief  inter 
view  with  the  woman  he  loved  had  trembled  on  his 


THE  EAGLE'S  FLIGHT         281 

lips,  but  it  had  found  no  utterance.  He  was  quite 
aware  how  he  stood  in  that  quarter.  He  had  come 
to  the  conclusion  that  the  Marquis,  at  least,  had  seen 
through  the  little  comedy — or,  was  it  not  a  tragedy, 
after  all? — which  he  had  played  in  her  bed-chamber, 
and  he  had  convinced  himself  that  the  swiftness,  the 
almost  unseemly  haste  of  his  trial  and  condemnation 
and  the  nearness  of  his  execution  were  largely  due 
to  a  determination  on  the  part  of  the  old  noble  to 
get  him  out  of  the  way  before  any  scandal  should 
arise.  Perhaps  scandal  was  certain  to  come,  and 
gossip  to  prevail,  but  it  would  be  less  harmful  if 
the  man  were  dead. 

To  ask  to  see  a  woman  whom  he  was  supposed  to 
have  insulted  so  deeply  and  wronged  so  grievously 
would  have  served  only  to  call  attention  to  those 
things,  to  have  given  the  whole  game  away,  as  it 
were.  Besides,  what  would  be  the  good  of  it?  She 
would  leave  him  weaker  in  his  resolution  than  be 
fore.  If  she  had  loved  him — ah,  God,  how  his  heart 
throbbed — if  that  impulsive  admission  had  been  the 
truth  of  her  heart !  Well,  he  told  himself,  he  would 
have  gone  through  the  trial,  accepted  the  verdict, 
received  the  bullets  of  the  firing-squad  in  his  heart, 
although  it  would  have  been  harder.  And  yet — how 
he  longed  to  see  her. 

He  had  not  expected  to  see  her  ever  again  dur 
ing  his  long  tramp  from  Salzburg  to  Grenoble.  He 
had  not  entertained  the  least  idea  that  she  would 
be  there.  He  had  schooled  himself  to  do  without 
her,  contemplate  life  absolutely  sundered  from  her. 


282    THE  EAGLE  OF  THE  EMPIRE 

But  when  he  did  see  her  his  whole  being  had  flamed 
with  the  passion  he  had  so  long  repressed  in  vain. 

And  the  Countess  Laure  knew  more  of  his  heart 
than  he  fancied.  During  the  morning  she  had  had 
young  Pierre  before  her.  She  had  questioned  him, 
suggesting  and  even  prompting  his  artless  revela 
tions.  The  boy  needed  no  suggestions.  He  was 
quick-witted  and  keen-eyed.  Admiring  Marteau 
extravagantly  and  devotedly  as  he  did,  he  could  not 
conceive  how  any  one  could  fail  to  share  his  feel 
ings.  He  told  the  hungry-hearted  woman  the  story 
of  their  lives  since  they  had  been  captured  together 
at  Arcis. 

Reticent  at  first,  Marteau  had  finally  made  a  con 
fidant  of  the  lad,  who  had  shown  himself  sympa 
thetic,  discreet,  adoring.  He  had  to  tell  somebody, 
he  had  to  ease  his  heart  of  his  burden.  And  when 
he  had  once  begun  naturally  he  poured  it  all  out 
before  the  boy.  He  could  not  have  told  a  man,  a 
woman,  perhaps,  had  one  been  by  sufficiently  sym 
pathetic  and  tender,  but,  failing  that,  it  was  the 
boy  who  received  the  confidences  and  who  never 
once  presumed  on  these  revelations.  Indeed,  he  had 
a  vein  of  romance  in  his  peasant  heart.  He  was  a 
poet  in  his  soul.  Perhaps  that  was  one  reason  why 
the  man  could  confide  in  him.  And  then,  when 
Marteau  lay  in  the  delirium  of  fever,  the  boy  had 
shared  their  watches  with  the  good  Sisters  of  Char 
ity.  He  alone  had  understood  the  burden  of  his 
ravings,  for  they  were  all  about  the  woman.  And, 
when  she  questioned  him  and  gave  him  the  oppor- 


THE  EAGLE'S  FLIGHT         283 

tunity,  he  poured  forth  in  turn  all  the  stored  treas 
ure  of  his  memory. 

And  the  poor,  distraught,  unhappy  young  woman 
hung  on  his  words  with  heaving  breast  and  panting 
heart  and  tear-dimmed  eyes  and  cheeks  that  flushed 
and  paled.  Glad  she  was  that  he  had  so  loved  her; 
sad  that  it  could  make  no  difference.  Indeed,  young 
Pierre  served  his  master  well  in  that  hour,  and 
earned  whatsoever  reward,  however  great  it  might 
be,  he  should  receive  from  him  in  the  future. 

How  strangely  selfish  even  in  its  loves  is  human 
ity!  Although  Marteau  was  intensely  fond  of  the 
lad,  and  deeply  devoted  to  him,  absorbed  in  his  over 
whelming  affection  for  the  woman  he  had  forgot  the 
boy  until  too  late  to  send  for  him  that  day.  Well, 
he  would  remedy  that  omission  on  the  morrow,  he 
thought,  as  he  abandoned  himself  once  more  to 
dreams  of  other  days,  to  fruitless  anticipations,  to 
vain  hopes  of  what  might  have  been. 

To  him  suddenly  came  St.  Laurent.  The  young 
aide  knew  but  vaguely  of  the  scene  in  the  Countess's 
bed-chamber  and,  therefore,  there  was  no  prejudice 
in  his  mind  against  the  officer.  Although  he  was  a 
loyalist  to  the  core,  he  could  sympathize  as  a  soldier 
with  the  other's  point  of  view.  His  address  toward 
him,  therefore,  was  respectful,  and  even  indicated 
some  of  that  sympathy. 

"Monsieur,"  he  began  most  courteously,  "I  am 
sent  by  the  Governor  to  conduct  you  elsewhere." 

"Shall  I  need  my  hat  and  cloak,  monsieur?"  asked 
the  other,  quite  appreciative  of  the  young  man's 
treatment  of  him. 


284    THE  EAGLE  OF  THE  EMPIRE 

"You  will,"  was  the  answer. 

"Am  I  leaving  this  room  permanently?" 

"You  will  return  to  it  in  half  an  hour." 

"And  whither- 

"You  will  pardon  me,"  was  the  firm  reply,  "I  have 
orders  to  conduct  you,  not  to  answer  questions." 

"Your  reproof,"  admitted  Marteau,  smiling 
faintly,  "is  well  deserved.  I  attend  you  at  once, 
sir."  * 

Escorted  by  St.  Laurent  and  two  soldiers,  he 
left  the  building,  walked  across  the  barrack  yard, 
attracting  instant  attention  from  the  soldiers  off 
duty  congregated  there,  and  a  few  officers  of  the  gar 
rison  who  chanced  to  be  passing.  All  of  them  sa 
luted  him  with  the  utmost  deference  and  the  most 
profound  respect.  He  punctiliously  acknowledged 
their  salutes  with  a  melancholy  grace  and  dignity. 
There  was  an  air  of  great  excitement  everywhere, 
and  he  wondered  vaguely  what  could  be  the  cause 
of  it. 

To  his  further  wonderment  also  he  found  his 
steps  directed  to  the  Governor's  palace.  Entering, 
he  was  ushered  through  the  halls  and  marched  to 
the  door  of  a  room  which  he  remembered  was  one 
of  the  smaller  waiting-rooms  of  the  palace.  St.  Lau 
rent,  stopped  before  the  door,  his  hand  upon  the 
knob. 

"Monsieur,"  he  said,  "to  this  room  there  is  but 
this  one  door.  I  remain  without  with  these  soldiers. 
You  can  see  by  a  glance  through  the  windows  that 
they  also  are  closely  guarded.  Escape  is  impossible. 
In  half  an  hour  I  will  knock  upon  the  door,  open  it, 


THE  EAGLE'S  FLIGHT         285 

and  escort  you  back  to  your  place  of  confinement. 
Do  you  understand?" 

"Perfectly." 

"Enter." 

Somewhat  bewildered  by  the  mysteriousness  of 
the  whole  proceeding,  and  yet  with  a  heart  which  in 
spite  of  himself  did  beat  a  little  faster,  Marteau  en 
tered  the  room,  St.  Laurent  closing  the  heavy  door 
behind  him. 


CHAPTER  XXV 

NOT  EVEN  LOVE  CAN  FIND  A  WAY 

STANDING  in  the  middle  of  the  room,  her  closed 
hand  resting  upon  a  table  upon  which  she  leaned 
as  if  for  support,  was  Laure  d'Aumenier.  The  old 
Marquis  had  not  noticed  it,  nor  did  the  young  man  ; 
that  is,  the  eye  of  neither  took  in  the  details,  but 
both  had  been  conscious  of  the  general  effect,  for 
the  young  Countess  had  dressed  herself  in  her  most 
becoming  gown,  one  that  had  been  newly  made  for 
her  in  Paris  before  the  journey  to  the  south  of 
France  and  that  she  had  never  worn  before. 

She  had  spent  a  miserable  night  and  day.  When 
she  had  talked  with  her  uncle  a  short  time  before, 
the  effects  of  her  sleeplessness  and  anguish  had  been 
plainly  apparent.  But  there,  within  that  room,  her 
color  coming  to  her  face,  her  eyes  shining  with  ex 
citement  and  emotion,  she  looked  as  fresh  and  as 
beautiful  as  the  springtime  without. 

It  was  her  right  hand  that  rested  on  the  table, 
and  as  Marteau  approached  her  left  instinctively 
sought  her  heart.  In  his  emotion  he  looked  at  her 
with  steady,  concentrated  glance,  so  keen,  so  pierc 
ing,  as  if  he  sought  to  penetrate  to  the  very  depths 
of  her  heart,  that  she  could  scarcely  sustain  his 
gaze.  He,  too,  had  forgot  cares  and  anxieties,  antici- 

286 


THE  EAGLE'S  FLIGHT         287 

pation,  hopes,  dreams;  in  his  excitement  and  sur 
prise  everything  had  gone  from  him  but  her  pres 
ence.  Here  was  the  woman  he  loved,  looking  at 
him  in  such  a  way,  with  such  an  air  and  such  a 
bearing,  her  hand  upon  her  heart — was  that  heart 
beating  for  him?  Was  she  trying  to  still  it,  to  con 
trol  it,  because 

His  approach  was  slow,  almost  terribly  deliberate, 
like  the  movement  of  the  old  Guard  under  Dorsenne 
— Le  Beau  Dorsenne! — against  the  heights  of  Prat- 
zen  on  the  glorious  yet  dreadful  day  of  Austerlitz. 
His  advance  was  irresistible,  but  unhurried,  as  if 
there  must  be  a  tremendous  clash  of  arms  in  a  mo 
ment  to  which  haste  could  lend  nothing,  from  the 
dignity  and  splendor  of  which  hurry  would  detract. 
At  another  time  the  woman  might  have  shrunk  back 
faltering,  she  might  have  voiced  a  protest,  or  tem 
porized,  but  now,  in  the  presence  of  death  itself,  as 
it  were,  she  stood  steady  waiting  for  him.  Enjoying 
the  luxury  of  looking  upon  him  unrestrained,  her 
heart  going  out  to  him  as  he  drew  nearer,  nearer, 
nearer,  she  found  herself  tremblingly  longing  for  his 
actual  touch. 

Now  his  arms  went  out  to  her,  she  felt  them 
slowly  fold  around  her,  and  then,  like  a  whirlwind 
released,  he  crushed  her  against  his  breast,  and,  as 
she  hung  there,  her  throbbing  heart  making  answer 
to  the  beating  of  his  own,  he  kissed  her  again, 
again,  again.  Her  heart  almost  stopped  its  beating. 
Beneath  the  fire  of  his  lips  her  face  burned.  Her 
head  drooped  at  last,  her  tense  body  gave  way,  she 


288    THE  EAGLE  OF  THE  EMPIRE 

leaned  upon  him  heavily,  glad  for  the  support  of  his 
strong  arms. 

"Laure,"  he  whispered,  "my  little  Laure,  you  love 
me.  Oh,  my  God,  you  love  me.  It  was  true,  then. 
I  did  not  dream  it.  My  ears  did  not  mock  me." 

"Yes,  yes,"  said  the  woman  at  last.  "Whoever  you 
are,  whatever  you  are,  wherever  you  go,  I  love  you." 

"And  was  it  to  tell  me  this  that  you  came?" 

"Yes.    But  not  for  this  alone." 

"What  else?" 

"I  would  have  you  live." 

"For  you?" 

"For  me." 

"As  your  husband?" 

"And  if  that  were  possible  would  you — — •»" 

"Yes,  yes,  would  I  what?" 

"Give  up  the  Eagle?" 

"My  God!"  said  the  man,  loosening  his  clasp  of 
her  a  little  and  holding  her  a  little  away  that  he 
might  look  at  her.  "Does  your  love  tempt  me  to 
dishonor?" 

"I  do  not  know,"  said  the  woman  piteously.  "I 
am  confused.  I  cannot  think  aright.  Oh,  Marteau, 
Jean,  with  whom  I  played  as  a  child,  think  of  me. 
I  cannot  bear  to  see  you  dead  outside  there.  I  can 
not  look  upon  a  soldier  without  thinking  of  it.  The 
rattling  of  the  carts  in  the  streets  sounds  in  my 
ear  like  shots.  Don't,  don't  die.  You  must  not." 

"And,  if  I  lived,  would  you  love  me?" 

"So  long  as  the  good  God  gives  me  the  breath  of 
life." 

"With  the  love  of  youth  and  the  love  of  age?" 


THE  EAGLE'S  FLIGHT         289 

"Aye,  for  eternity." 

"And  would  you  be  my  wife?" 

"Your  wife?"  said  the  woman,  her  face  changing. 
"It  would  be  joy  beyond  all,  but  I  could  not." 

"Why  not?" 

"I — you  know  I  am  promised  to  another,"  she 
went  on  desperately,  "and  but  that  I  might  see  you 
I  repeated  the  promise.  Otherwise  my  uncle  would 
never  have  permitted  me  this  blessed  privilege.  I 
told  him  that  I  would  marry  anybody  if  he  would 
only  let  me  see  you — alone — for  a  moment,  even. 
What  difference,  so  long  as  I  could  not  be  yours?  I 
came  to  tell  you  that  I  loved  you,  and  because  of 
that  to  beg  you  to  live,  to  give  up  that  Eagle.  What 
is  it,  a  mere  casting  of  metal,  valueless.  Don't  look 
at  me  with  that  hard,  set  face.  Let  me  kiss  the  line 
of  your  lips  into  softness  again.  I  cannot  be  your 
wife,  but  at  least  you  will  live.  I  will  know  that 
somewhere  you  think  of  me." 

"And  would  death  make  a  difference?  High  in 
the  highest  heaven,  should  I  be  so  fortunate  as  to 
achieve  it,  I  would  think  of  you;  and,  if  I  were  to 
be  sent  to  the  lowest  hell,  I  could  forget  it  all  in 
thinking  of  you." 

"Yes,  yes,  I  know  how  you  love,  because — — " 

"Because  why?" 

"I  won't  hesitate  now.  It  may  be  unmaidenly, 
but  I  know,  because  I,  too " 

"Laure!"  cried  the  man,  sweeping  her  to  him 
again. 

"I  think  I  loved  you  when  we  were  boy  and  girl 
together,"  said  the  woman,  throwing  everything  to 


290    THE  EAGLE  OF  THE  EMPIRE 

the  winds  in  making  her  great  confession.  "I  know 
I  loved  you  that  night  in  the  chateau,  although  I 
would  not  admit  it,  and  I  treated  you  so  cruelly. 
And  when  they  told  me  you  were  dead,  then,  then, 
my  heart  broke.  And  when  you  came  here  and  I 
saw  you  two  men  together — oh,  I  had  made  the  con 
trast  in  my  imagination — but  last  night  I  saw  and 
now  I  see.  Oh,  you  will  live,  live.  What  is  honor 
compared  to  a  woman's  heart?  See,  I  am  at  your 
feet.  You  will  not  break  me.  You  will  live.  Some 
thing  may  happen.  I  am  not  married  yet.  The  Em 
peror  may  come  back." 

"The  boy,  Pierre,  said  last  night  that  it  was  ru 
mored— 

"Yes,  he  gave  me  a  message.  I  almost  forgot  it." 
She  held  out  the  violet  crushed  in  her  fevered  palm. 
"He  said  to  tell  you  that  the  violet  has  bloomed." 

"Does  he  mean ?" 

"I  know  not  what  he  means." 

"It  is  but  an  assurance  begot  of  hope,"  said  Mar- 
teau. 

"And  if  it  were  so?" 

"He  comes  too  late.  Rise,  my  lady.  It  is  not 
meet  for  you  to  kneel.  Let  me  lift  you  up,  up  to 
my  heart.  I  cannot  give  up  the  Eagle.  That  I  have 
won  your  love  is  the  most  wonderful  thing  in  all 
the  world.  It  passes  my  understanding,  the  under 
standing  of  man,  but  I  should  forfeit  it  if  I  should 
permit  myself  this  shame." 

"Then  I  will  do  it,  1  will  betray  you,"  said  the 
little  Countess  desperately.  "I  alone  know  where 
that  Eagle  is.  I  will  get  it.  I  will  bargain  with  my 


THE  EAGLE'S  FLIGHT         291 

uncle  for  your  life.  Marteau,  listen.  Do  you  wish 
to  condemn  me  to  death?  I  will  not,  I  cannot,  sur 
vive  you.  I  will  not  be  thrust  into  that  other's  arms. 
I  did  not  know,  I  did  not  realize  what  it  was — before. 
But  since  I  have  been  here,  since  you  have  held 
me  to  your  heart,  since  you  have  kissed  me — no,  I 
cannot.  It  would  be  desecration — horror.  Let  me 
go.  I  will  tell." 

"Dearest  Laure,"  said  the  man,  holding  her 
tighter,  "think,  be  calm,  listen.  It  needs  not  that 
I  assure  you  of  my  love.  I  have  proved  it.  I  lie 
here  with  the  stigma  of  shame,  the  basest  of  accusa 
tions  in  the  hearts  of  those  who  know  of  our  meet 
ing  at  night,  to  save  you  from  suspicion  even." 

"Not  my  uncle,  not  the  Marquis.  He  says  there 
is  something  back  of  it  all.  He  knows  you  are  not 
a  thief." 

"It  takes  a  d'Aumenier  to  understand  a  Marteau," 
said  the  young  man  proudly. 

"And  I  am  a  d'Aumenier,  too,"  said  the  woman. 

"Then  strive  to  comprehend  my  point  of  view." 

"I  can,  I  will,  but^- 

"What  binds  you  to  that  Englishman?" 

"My  word,  my  uncle's  word." 

"Exactly.  And  what  else  binds  you  to  keep  my 
secret?" 

The  woman  stared  at  him. 

"Oh,  do  not  urge  that  against  me,"  she  pleaded. 
"I  must  tell  all." 

"I  have  your  word.  That  Eagle  must  remain  hid 
den  there  until  the  Emperor  comes  back.  Then 


292    THE  EAGLE  OF  THE  EMPIRE 

you  must  give  it  to  him  and  say  that  I  died  that 
you  might  place  it  in  his  hand." 

"There  must  be  a  way,  and  there  shall  be  a  way," 
said  the  agonized  woman.  "I  love  you.  I  cannot 
have  you  die.  I  cannot,  I  cannot." 

Her  voice  rose  almost  to  a  scream  in  mad  and 
passionate  protest. 

"Why,"  said  the  man  soothingly,  "I  am  the  more 
ready  to  die  now  that  I  know  that  you  love  me. 
Few  men  have  ever  got  so  much  out  of  life  as  that 
assurance  gives  me.  That  I,  peasant-born,  beneath 
you,  should  have  won  your  heart,  that  I  should  have 
been  permitted  to  hold  you  to  my  breast,  to  feel 
that  heart  beat  against  my  own,  to  drink  of  the  treas 
ures  of  your  lips,  to  kiss  your  eyes  that  shine  upon 

me Oh,  my  God,  what  have  I  done  to  deserve 

it  all?  And  it  is  better,  far  better,  having  had  thus 
much  and  being  stopped  from  anything  further,  that 
I  should  go  to  my  grave  in  this  sweet  recollection. 
Could  I  live  to  think  of  you  as  his  wife?" 

"If  you  will  only  live  I  will  die  myself." 

"And  could  I  purchase  life  at  that  price?  No. 
We  have  duties  to  perform — hard,  harsh  words  in  a 
woman's  ear,  common  accustomed  phrase  to  a  sol 
dier.  I  have  to  die  for  my  honor  and  you  have  to 
marry  for  yours." 

"Monsieur,"  broke  in  the  sharp,  somewhat  high, 
thin  voice  of  the  old  Marquis  standing  by  the  door, 
"the  court-martial  brands  you  as  a  traitor.  Captain 
Yeovil  and  those  who  were  with  me  last  night  think 
you  are  a  thief  and  worse.  But,  by  St.  Louis,"  con 
tinued  the  old  noble,  fingering  his  cross,  as  was  his 


THE  EAGLE'S  FLIGHT         293 

wont  in  moments  in  which  he  was  deeply  moved, 
"I  know  that  you  are  a  soldier  and  a  gentleman." 

"A  soldier,  yes;  but  a  gentleman? — only  'almost/ 
my  lord." 

"Not  almost  but  altogether.  There  is  not  another 
man  in  France  who  could  withstand  such  a  plea 
from  such  a  woman." 

"You  heard!"  exclaimed  Marteau. 

"Only  the  last  words.  I  heard  her  beg  you  to  live 
because  she  loved  you." 

"And  you  did  not  hear " 

"I  heard  nothing  else,"  said  the  Marquis  firmly. 
"Would  I  listen?  I  spoke  almost  as  soon  as  I  came 
in.  Laure,  these  Marteaux  have  lived  long  enough 
by  the  side  of  the  d'Aumeniers  to  have  become  en 
nobled  by  the  contact/'  he  went  on  naively.  "I  now 
know  the  young  man  as  I  know  myself.  It  is  useless 
for  you  to  plead  longer.  I  come  to  take  you  away." 

"Oh,  not  yet,  not  yet." 

"Go,"  said  the  young  officer.  "Indeed,  I  cannot 
endure  this  longer,  and  I  must  summon  my  fortitude 
for  to-morrow." 

"As  for  that,"  said  the  Marquis,  "there  must  be  a 
postponement  of  the  execution." 

"I  ask  it  not,  monsieur.  It  is  no  favor  to  me 
for  you  to " 

"Thank  God!  Thank  God!"  cried  the  woman. 
"Every  hour  means " 

"And  I  am  not  postponing  it  because  of  you," 
continued  the  Marquis  coolly.  "But  he  who  must 
not  be  named " 

"The  Emperor." 


"So  you  call  him — has  landed." 

"Yes,  yes;  for  God's  sake,  tell  me  more." 

"I  have  no  objection  to  telling  you  all.  He  is  on 
the  march  toward  Grenoble.  He  will  be  here  to 
morrow  night.  Troops  have  been  sent  for  and  will 
assemble  here.  He  will  be  met  in  the  gap  on  the 
road  a  few  miles  below  the  town.  He  will  be  taken. 
If  he  resists  he  will  be  shot." 

"Yes,  the  violets  have  bloomed  again." 

"And  they  shall  draw  red  nourishment  from  the 
soil  of  France,"  was  the  prophetic  answer. 

"The  Emperor!"  cried  the  young  man  in  an  ex 
ultant  dream,  "in  France  again!  The  Emperor!" 

"And  so  your  execution  will  be  deferred  until  we 
come  back.  The  Emperor  may  take  warning  from 
it  when  he  witnesses  it,"  continued  the  imperturba 
ble  old  royalist. 

"I  shall  see  him  once  more." 

"As  a  prisoner." 

Marteau  started  to  speak,  checked  himself. 

"For  the  last  time,"  said  the  girl,  "I  beg " 

"It  is  useless." 

"Let  me  speak  again.  My  uncle  has  a  kind  heart 
under  that  hard  exterior.  He — 

"A  kind  heart,  indeed,"  said  the  old  man,  smiling 
grimly,  as  Marteau  shook  his  head  at  the  girl  he 
loved  so  well.  "And,  to  prove  it,  here." 

He  extended  a  sealed  paper.  Marteau  made  no 
effort  to  take  it.  He  recognized  it  at  once.  For  a 
moment  there  flashed  into  the  woman's  mind  that  it 
was  a  pardon.  But  the  old  man  undeceived  her. 

"Do  you  give  it  to  him,  Laure,"  he  said.    "It  is 


295 

that  patent  of  nobility  that  he  gave  up.  Acting  for 
my  King,  who  will,  I  am  sure,  approve  of  what  I 
have  done,  I  return  it  to  him.  As  he  dies  with  the 
spirit  and  soul  of  a  gentleman,  so  also  shall  he  die 
with  the  title.  Monsieur  le  Comte  d'Aumenier,  I, 
the  head  of  the  house,  welcome  you  into  it.  I  salute 
you.  Farewell.  And  now,"  the  old  man  drew  out 
his  snuff  box,  tendered  it  to  the  young  man  with 
all  the  grace  of  the  ancient  regime.  "No?"  he  said, 
as  Marteau  stared  in  bewilderment.  "The  young 
generation  has  forgot  how,  it  seems.  Very  well." 
He  took  a  pinch  himself  gracefully,  closed  the  box, 
tapped  it  gently  with  his  long  fingers,  as  was  his 
wont.  "Monsieur  will  forgive  my  back,"  he  said, 
turning  abruptly  and  calling  over  his  shoulder,  "and 
in  a  moment  we  must  go." 

Ah,  he  could  be,  he  was  a  gentleman  of  the  ancient 
school,  indeed.  It  seemed  but  a  second  to  youth, 
although  it  was  a  long  time  to  age,  before  he  tore 
them  apart  and  led  the  half-fainting  girl  away. 


CHAPTER  XXVI 

THEY  MEET  A  LION  IN  THE  WAY 

MORNING  in  the  springtime,  the  sixth  of  March, 
1815,  bright  and  sunny,  the  air  fresh.  The  parade- 
ground  was  filled  with  troops.  There  were  the  vet 
erans  of  the  old  Seventh-of-the-Line,  under  the 
young  Colonel  Labedoyere.  Here  were  the  close- 
ranked  lines  of  the  Fifth  regiment,  Major  Lestoype 
astride  his  big  horse  at  the  head  of  the  first  battalion. 
Grenier,  Drehon,  Suraif  and  the  other  officers  with 
their  companies,  the  men  in  heavy  marching  order, 
their  white  cockades  shining  in  the  bright  sunlight  in 
their  shakos.  The  artillery  was  drawn  up  on  the 
walls,  the  little  squadron  of  household  cavalry  was 
in  attendance  upon  the  Marquis.  His  lean,  spare 
figure  looked  well  upon  a  horse.  He  rode  with  all  the 
grace  and  ease  of  a  boy. 

Yes,  there  were  the  colors,  too,  the  white  flag  of 
France  with  the  golden  lily  in  the  place  of  the  Eagle 
on  the  staff,  at  the  head  of  the  column.  With  ruf 
fling  of  drums  and  presenting  of  arms  the  flag  had 
been  escorted  to  its  place,  and  from  the  little  group 
of  cavalry  had  come  the  words  not  heard  till  re 
cently  for  so  many  years  in  France: 

"Vive  le  Roil" 

The  troops  had  assembled  silently,  somewhat  sul- 
296 


THE  EAGLE'S  FLIGHT         297 

lenly.  They  stood  undemonstrative  now.  What 
they  would  do  no  one  could  tell.  The  couriers  who 
had  dashed  into  the  town  yesterday  night  had  told 
the  story  to  the  Marquis.  Napoleon  had  landed  five 
days  before.  He  was  within  a  day's  march  of  Greno 
ble.  His  following  consisted  of  eleven  hundred 
French  infantry,  eighty  Polish  horsemen,  and  a  few 
guns;  troops  of  the  line,  and  the  grenadiers  of  the 
Elba  guard.  The  peasants  had  been  apathetic.  He 
had  carefully  avoided  garrisoned  towns,  choosing  the 
unfrequented  and  difficult  route  over  the  maritime 
Alps  of  Southern  France.  He  was  marching  straight 
into  the  heart  of  the  country,  to  conquer  or  to  die 
with  this  little  band.  The  messenger's  news  had 
been  for  the  Governor's  ears  alone,  but  it  had  got 
out.  Indeed,  the  tidings  spread  everywhere.  Every 
wind  that  swept  over  the  mountains  seemed  to  be 
laden  with  the  story.  The  whole  city  knew  that  the 
foot  of  the  idol  was  once  more  upon  the  soil  of 
France.  They  saw  no  feet  of  clay  to  that  idol,  then. 
The  news  had  reached  Paris  via  Marseilles  almost 
before  it  was  known  in  Grenoble.  The  terror- 
stricken  government  yet  acted  promptly.  Troops 
were  put  in  motion,  fast-riding  expresses  and  couriers 
warned  garrisons  and  transmitted  orders  to  capture 
or  kill  without  mercy.  By  a  singular  freak  of  fate 
most  of  these  orders  were  perforce  given  to  the  old 
companions  in  arms  of  the  Emperor.  Most  of  these 
were  openly  disaffected  toward  the  King,  and  eager 
to  welcome  Napoleon.  A  few  were  indifferent  or  in 
imical  to  the  prospective  appeal  of  their  former 
Captain.  Still  fewer  swore  to  capture  him,  and  one 


298    THE  EAGLE  OF  THE  EMPIRE 

"to  bring  him  back  in  an  iron  cage!"  Only  here 
and  there  a  royalist  pure  and  simple  held  high  com 
mand,  as  the  Marquis  at  Grenoble, 

The  old  noble  acted  with  great  promptitude  and 
decision.  As  the  Governor  of  Dauphine  he  had  an 
extensive  command.  Grenoble  was  the  most  im 
portant  town  in  the  southeast.  Within  its  walls  was 
a  great  arsenal.  It  was  strongly  fortified,  and  ade 
quately  garrisoned.  No  better  place  to  resist  the 
Emperor,  if  his  initial  force  had  grown  sufficiently 
to  make  it  formidable,  could  be  found.  Rumor  mag 
nified  that  force  immensely.  The  Marquis  gave  the 
order  for  the  concentration  of  all  the  troops  in  the 
province,  to  the  number  of  six  thousand.  He  sent 
out  scouting  detachments,  and  companies  of  engi 
neers  to  break  down  bridges  and  block  up  roads — 
none  of  whom,  by  the  way,  obeyed  his  orders.  In 
short,  he  did  everything  that  experience,  skill  and 
devotion  could  suggest  to  stop  the  Emperor  and  ter 
minate  the  great  adventure  then  and  there. 

The  ruffling  of  the  drums  in  the  square  ceased. 
The  old  Marquis  detached  himself  from  his  staff  and 
the  cavalry  and  rode  out  between  the  regiments.  He 
lifted  his  hand.  There  was  an  intensity  of  silence 
on  every  hand.  Even  the  people  of  the  town  had 
left  their  places  of  business  and  were  crowded  close 
to  the  lines  to  hear  and  see  what  was  to  be  done. 

"Bonaparte,"  said  the  Marquis,  that  high,  thin, 
somewhat  cracked  old  voice  carrying  with  astonish 
ing  clearness  in  every  direction,  "landed  from  Elba 
in  the  Gulf  of  Juan  a  few  days  ago.  This  usurper, 
this  bloody-minded  tyrant,  has  broken  every  oath, 


THE  EAGLE'S  FLIGHT         299 

disregarded  every  treaty.  He  is  coming  to  Grenoble. 
He  will  be  here  to-day.  As  loyal  subjects  of  our 
gracious  and  most  catholic  Majesty,  King  Louis 
XVIII,  whom  God  preserve,"  continued  the  old  man, 
taking  off  his  hat,  "it  becomes  our  duty  to  seize,  and 
if  he  resists,  to  kill  this  treacherous  monster,  who 
had  plunged  Europe  into  a  sea  of  blood  and  well- 
nigh  ruined  France."  The  old  man  did  not  mince 
words,  it  appeared!  "You,  gentlemen  and  com 
rades,  have  all  sworn  oaths  before  God  and  man  to 
be  faithful  to  the  King  whose  bread  you  eat  and 
whose  uniform  you  wear.  It  has  been  said  to  me 
that  there  is  disaffection  among  you.  I  cannot  be 
lieve  that  a  soldier  of  France  can  be  false  to  his  oaths 
and  to  his  flag.  The  Fifth  Regiment  of  the  Line  will 
march  with  me  to  meet  the  Corsican.  The  cavalry 
and  my  personal  escort  will  keep  the  gates.  If  by 
any  chance  we  should  be  beaten,  which  I  cannot 
think  possible  with  such  brave  men  and  gallant  offi 
cers,  the  town  must  be  held.  Colonel  Labedoyere, 
to  you  I  commit  the  charge.  Have  your  men  line 
the  walls.  Dispose  the  troops  which  will  soon  be 
arriving  advantageously.  See  that  the  guns  are 
double-shotted.  If  by  any  chance  I  do  not  return, 
hold  the  place  to  the  last.  Troops  are  marching  to 
your  aid  from  all  over  France.  Major  Lestoype, 
move  your  regiment.  Vive  le  Roi!"  ended  the  old 
man. 

Again  the  cry  was  echoed,  but  not  by  many;  the 
household  cavalry,  one  or  two  of  the  newer  com 
panies  of  the  brigade,  some  of  the  citizens.  The 
Marquis  noticed  it;  everybody  noticed  it.  Well, 


300    THE  EAGLE  OF  THE  EMPIRE 

what  difference  did  it  make  to  the  old  man?  They 
might  cry  or  they  might  not  cry.  Fight  they  must, 
and  fight  they  should.  He  had  something  of  the  old 
Roman  spirit  in  him,  the  Marquis  d'Aumenier. 
Upon  him  had  devolved  the  conduct  of  the  critical 
issue.  If  he  could  stop  Napoleon  then  and  there  his 
venture  would  be  a  mere  escapade  and  a  sorry 
one.  If  he  could  not,  then  God  help  France  and  the 
world. 

From  the  window  of  his  prison,  which  overlooked 
the  parade,  Marteau  had  seen  and  heard  all.  The 
Emperor  was  coming  and  he  would  not  be  there  to 
extend  him  a  welcome.  He  forgot  that  if  Napoleon 
had  been  a  day  later  it  would  have  made  no  differ 
ence  to  Marteau  if  he  never  came.  He  would  have 
given  years  of  his  life,  if  it  had  been  possible,  to  have 
marched  with  the  column. 

Orders  had  been  published  that  morning  postpon 
ing  his  execution  until  the  return  of  the  regiment. 
Just  what  was  in  the  Marquis'  mind  no  one  could 
absolutely  say,  but  he  was  shrewd  enough  to  recog 
nize  the  possibility  of  an  outbreak  or  an  attempted 
mutiny  among  the  troops,  when  the  sentence  of 
execution  was  being  carried  out.  He  did  not  want 
any  difficulties  of  that  kind  then.  Not  because  he 
feared  them  or  felt  unequal  to  them!  Oh,  no.  But 
because  such  an  outbreak  would  make  the  regiment 
more  difficult  to  control  in  the  greater  emergency, 
and  he  knew  he  needed  all  the  influence  and  moral 
power  and  force  he  could  exercise  to  keep  it  in  line 
for  the  graver  duty  and  more  tremendous  responsi 
bility  it  must  now  face.  And  because  he  did  not 


THE  EAGLE'S  FLIGHT         301 

wish  to  leave  it  with  Marteau  in  Grenoble,  he  took 
the  regiment  with  him.  If  he  could  force  it  to  do  its 
duty  and  arrest  Napoleon,  he  could  deal  with  Mar 
teau  at  his  leisure.  The  Emperor  was  the  greater 
issue,  and  Marteau  benefited  by  that  fact. 

So,  with  drums  beating  and  flags  flying,  the  Fifth- 
of-the-Line  marched  down  the  road.  With  the  Col 
onel  and  his  staff  rode  Sir  Gervaise  Yeovil  and  his 
son.  They  had  asked  permission  and  it  had  been 
accorded  them.  Indeed,  the  staff  was  scanty.  Young 
St.  Laurent  and  an  orderly,  besides  the  two  English 
men,  alone  accompanied  the  old  man.  Realizing 
how  critical  the  situation  was,  and  how  important 
it  was  that  the  town  should  be  held,  he  had  left 
every  officer  and  man  upon  whom  he  could  count 
with  the  cavalry,  and  with  instructions  to  watch  La- 
bedoyere  particularly,  and  check  any  disloyalty,  if 
possible.  If  the  Marquis  alone  could  not  effect  his 
purpose  with  the  regiment,  no  staff  officer  could  aid 
him.  He  was  a  lonely  old  man  and  a  hard  that 
morning.  The  odds  against  him  were  tremendous, 
and  his  weapons  were  flawed  and  breaking  in  his 
hand.  That  only  made  him  the  more  firmly  reso 
lute.  He  knew  how  sometimes  one  man  could  en 
force  his  will  on  unwilling  thousands.  Was  he  that 
man  that  day?  He  would  see. 

Some  miles  south  of  the  town  the  winding  road 
ran  along  the  side  of  a  high  and  rocky  hill.  On  the 
side  opposite  to  the  hill  was  a  deep  morass.  This 
place  was  known  as  the  Gap.  The  Marquis,  who 
had  apparently  thought  of  everything,  had  reconnoi- 
tered  the  country,  and  had  decided  upon  the  defensi- 


302    THE  EAGLE  OF  THE  EMPIRE 

bleness  of  a  place  like  this  in  the  case  of  such  an 
emergency  as  he  was  about  to  face,  for  along  that 
hillside  ran  the  main  highway  to  the  coast  of  France. 

The  troops  reached  it  about  noon-time.  The  road 
was  high  up  on  the  hillside.  The  Marquis,  riding  in 
advance  of  his  regiment,  saw  far  down  the  long  road 
and  across  a  little  river  a  moving  column  of  men. 
Above  them  floated  the  tricolor  flag,  the  blue  and  the 
red  vividly  distinct  in  the  bright  sun,  which  seemed 
to  be  reflected,  as  it  were,  from  a  crown  of  glory  at 
the  top  of  the  staff.  There  were  perhaps  twelve  hun 
dred  soldiers  on  foot  and  a  few  score  on  horseback. 
They  were  coming  steadily  along  the  road.  The  dis 
tance  was  almost  too  great  to  distinguish  men,  but 
one  rode  a  white  horse  at  the  head.  The  soldiers 
could  see  with  their  minds  and  hearts  better  than 
their  eyes,  and  they  recognized  that  gray-coated  fig 
ure  on  that  familiar  white  horse.  They  could  hear 
the  beating  of  drums  faintly.  The  bridges  had  not 
been  broken.  The  fords  were  not  guarded.  The 
advance  parties  had  failed.  Presage  of  disaster! 

The  Marquis  congratulated  himself  that  he  was  in 
time  to  repair  the  disobedience  of  orders,  which  he 
promised  himself  to  punish  at  the  first  opportunity. 
Instantly  he  directed  Major  Lestoype  to  deploy  the 
men  from  column  into  line,  so  that  they  filled  the 
road,  which  was  here  very  broad  and  spacious.  On 
a  sloping  hillside  he  placed  flanking  companies.  The 
command  was  given  to  load,  and  the  ramrods  soon 
rang  in  the  gun-barrels.  Major  Lestoype's  voice 
shook  as  he  gave  the  commands,  which  were  re 
peated  hoarsely,  brokenly,  nervously,  by  the  com- 


THE  EAGLE'S  FLIGHT         303 

pany  and  the  platoon  officers.  The  dispositions  of 
the  men  were  soon  concluded.  The  place  of  the 
Marquis  was  behind  the  line,  but  he  rode  to  the 
right  of  it  in  a  little  depression  cut  out  by  the  rains 
of  winter  in  the  side  of  the  hill,  underneath  a  great 
tree  which  was  just  beginning  to  show  its  leaves  in 
the  soft  spring  air  and  sunshine.  From  there  he 
could  command  every  part  of  the  line  with  his 
glance,  or  move  to  the  front  or  rear  as  the  occasion 
might  warrant.  There  he  could  see  and  be  seen. 

He  was  always  pale,  his  old  face  seamed  and 
drawn,  but  to  his  friends,  the  Englishmen,  he 
seemed  paler  and  older  than  ever,  as  he  sat  quietly 
calming  his  nervous  horse.  And  Sir  Gervaise  Yeovil 
was  pale,  too.  Not  that  he  had  any  bodily  fear, 
but  the  incident  was  so  fraught  with  consequences 
which  a  man  as  experienced  as  he  could  so  easily 
foresee,  appreciate  and  dread,  that  its  possibilities 
oppressed  his  heart.  Young  Frank  Yeovil  was  all  ex 
citement,  however.  Napoleon  had  been  buried  in 
Elba,  but  none  mentioned  his  name  in  any  country 
in  Europe  without  a  thrill.  Few  do  it  now  without 
a  thrill,  for  that  matter.  The  young  man,  modestly 
in  the  background,  as  was  proper,  leaned  forward  in 
his  saddle  and  stared  at  the  approaching  men  and 
the  figure  to  the  fore.  So  this  was  the  great  Bona 
parte?  He  longed  earnestly  for  a  nearer  view. 

"Think  you,  my  lord,"  whispered  the  Baronet  to 
the  old  Marquis,  his  great  anxiety  showing  in  his 
voice,  "that  your  men  are  to  be  depended  upon? 
That  they  will- 

The  Marquis  shook  his  head,  stared  down  the 


304    THE  EAGLE  OF  THE  EMPIRE 

ranks  at  the  men  standing  grim  and  tensely  silent  at 
parade-rest. 

"They  look  steady,"  he  replied,  shrugging  his 
shoulders.  "They  have  taken  an  oath  to  the  King, 
and — God  only  knows." 

"What  shall  you  do?" 

"The  best  I  can  with  the  means  at  hand,"  was 
the  indomitable  answer. 

"And  if— 

"There  are  no  'ifs/  monsieur,"  was  the  imperious 
way  in  which  the  Marquis  silenced  the  other. 

Recognizing  that  he  had  said  enough,  and  indeed 
pitying  the  old  man  so  alone,  the  Baronet  drew  back 
a  little. 

"By  heaven,"  whispered  young  Frank  Yeovil  to 
his  father,  "I  wouldn't  be  elsewhere  for  a  thousand 
pounds." 

"It  may  cost  you  that  before  you  get  away,  and 
more,"  said  the  old  man  grimly.  "It  will  cost  Eng 
land  millions,  unless " 

"Monsieur  le  Commandant"  said  old  Major  Les- 
toype,  riding  up  to  the  group  and  saluting  respect 
fully. 

"Major  Lestoype." 

"The  command  is  formed  and  ready,  sir." 

"Very  good.    Take  your  place  and  be  prepared." 

"Will  Monsieur  le  Marquis  permit  me?"  asked  the 
old  soldier,  who  had  acquired  a  genuine  respect  for 
the  old  noble. 

"Permit  you  what?" 

"To  return  his  advice,"  was  the  not  unexpected 
reply. 


THE  EAGLE'S  FLIGHT          305 

"The  thought  of  me,  which  is  evidently  back  of 
your  words,  sir,  inclines  me  to  overlook  their  mean 
ing  and  its  impropriety.  Know,  sir,  that  I  am  al 
ways  ready,"  was  the  grim  comment  of  the  ancient 
soldier. 

"Indeed,  sir — "  began  the  other,  but  the  Marquis 
cut  him  short  with  an  imperious  gesture  and  a  word. 

"Retire." 

The  Major  saluted,  resumed  his  place  in  the  line. 
No  one  spoke.  The  approaching  soldiers  were  nearer 
now.  They  were  coming.  The  Fifth-of-the-Line 
sensed  rather  than  heard  a  command  down  the  road. 
They  saw  the  guns  of  that  little  army  come  from 
their  shoulders  to  a  slanting  position  across  the 
breast — arms  aport !  It  was  the  habit  of  the  Guard 
to  go  into  action  at  arms  aport.  What  had  Dorsenne, 
Le  Beau  Dorsenne,  said  on  that  famous  day?  "The 
Guard  fights  at  the  point  of  the  bayonet!"  Would 
the  guns  come  down  to  a  charge?  Would  they  have 
to  meet  bayonet  thrusts  from  these  terrible  soldiers? 

There  was  something  ominous  in  the  slow  move 
ments  of  the  men,  picked  men  they  were,  the  grena 
diers  of  the  Elba  Guard  especially  being  of  great 
size,  their  huge  bearskins  towering  above  them. 
They  were  marching  in  columns  of  fours,  but  the 
road  was  wide;  another  sharp  command  and  the 
men  with  slow  yet  beautiful  precision  deployed  into 
a  close  column  of  companies  at  half  distance — the 
very  formation  for  a  charge  in  mass!  The  brass 
drums  were  rolling  a  famous  march,  "La  Grena- 
diere,"  the  grenadier's  march.  The  hearts  of  the 


306    THE  EAGLE  OF  THE  EMPIRE 

Fifth-of-the-Line  were  keeping  time  to  the  beating 
of  those  drums. 

Ah,  they  were  splendid  soldiers,  that  regiment  of 
infantry.  Even  the  youths  got  something  from  the 
veterans.  They  stood  still,  quiet,  at  parade-rest, 
staring.  The  distance  was  growing  shorter,  shorter 
and  shorter.  Some  of  the  officers  looked  toward  the 
Marquis.  Even  his  nervous  horse  seemed  to  have 
caught  the  spirit  of  the  moment,  for  he  was  at  last 
still.  The  old  man  sat  there  immobile,  his  lips 
pressed,  his  eyes  fixed  on  the  approaching  troops  and 
shining  like  sword-blades  in  the  sunlight — horse  and 
man  carved,  as  it  were,  out  of  the  rock  of  the  moun 
tains.  Presently  that  high,  thin,  sharp  voice  rang 
out.  Men  heard  it  above  the  rolling  of  the  drums. 

"Attention!"  he  cried.  The  men  straightened  up, 
swung  the  heavy  muskets  to  their  sides.  "Carry 
arms."  As  one  man  the  battalion  lifted  its  weapons. 
"Make  ready!"  With  a  little  crash  the  guns  were 
dropped  into  the  outstretched  hands. 

The  approaching  men  were  nearer  now.  Still  they 
came  on  with  arms  aport.  Still  the  drums  ruffled 
and  rolled  at  their  head.  They  were  not  going  to 
make  any  response  apparently  to  the  fire  of  the 
Fifth-of-the-Line.  Were  they,  indeed,  to  come  to 
death's  grapple  at  the  bayonet's  point  with  that  irre 
sistible  Guard?  But  no,  there  was  a  sudden  move 
ment,  a  change  in  the  approaching  ranks. 

"Secure  arms,"  cried  old  Cambronne,  and  with 
their  guns  reversed  and  comfortably  tucked  under 
their  arms,  the  old  soldiers  came  on. 


THE  EAGLE'S  FLIGHT         307 

The  meaning  was  plain,  the  battle  was  to  be  a 
moral  one,  evidently! 

"Aim!"  cried  the  sharp  voice  of  the  Marquis,  and 
the  guns  came  up  to  the  shoulders  of  the  long  line, 
as  they  bent  their  heads  and  mechanically  squinted 
along  the  barrels. 

The  moment  had  come!  Out  in  the  front  had 
ridden  the  familiar  figure  on  the  white  horse.  They 
could  see  the  details  of  his  person  now.  His  pale 
face  was  flushed  under  the  familiar  black,  three-cor 
nered  cocked  hat  with  its  tricolor  cockade,  his  gray 
redingote  was  buttoned  across  his  breast.  He  sud 
denly  raised  his  hand.  The  drums  stopped  beating, 
the  moving  grenadiers  halted.  Ah,  at  last! 

The  Emperor  sprang  from  his  horse,  not  heavily, 
as  of  late,  but  with  some  of  the  alertness  of  a  boy. 
He  nodded  to  the  ranks.  Old  General  Cambronne, 
in  command  of  the  Guard,  stepped  forward.  He 
took  from  the  colour-bearer  the  Eagle.  Four  grena 
diers  of  the  Colour  Guard  closed  about  him — one  of 
them  was  called  Bullet-Stopper,  by  the  way.  In 
rear  and  a  little  to  the  right  of  the  Emperor  he 
moved,  holding  up  the  flag  and  the  Eagle.  A  deep 
breath,  almost  a  sob,  ran  down  the  line  of  the  regi 
ment.  Protended  guns  wavered.  Napoleon  stepped 
forward.  He  threw  back  his  gray  overcoat,  disclos 
ing  the  familiar  green  uniform  of  the  Chasseurs  of 
the  Guard,  which  he  affected.  The  cross  of  the  Le 
gion  of  Honor  glittered  on  his  breast,  a  shining 
mark  at  which  to  aim. 

The  flush  on  his  ivory  face  died  as  quickly  as  it 
had  come.  He  was  apparently  as  composed  and  as 


308    THE  EAGLE  OF  THE  EMPIRE 

steady  as  if  he  had  been  cut  out  of  granite.  But  tiny 
beads  of  sweat  bedewed  his  brow,  shaded  by  that 
familiar  cocked  hat.  What  would  the  next  moment 
disclose?  Would  he  be  a  prisoner,  the  laughmg 
stock,  the  jest  of  Europe?  Or  would  he  lie  dead  in 
the  road,  a  French  bullet  in  his  heart?  He  had 
faced  the  guns  of  every  people  in  Europe,  but  he 
had  never  faced  French  guns  before.  Would  any 
finger  in  that  line  press  a  trigger?  Only  God  knew, 
but  the  Emperor  would  soon  find  out.  Better  death 
than  exile  without  wife,  child,  friend,  or  France.  On 
the  hazard  of  the  moment  he  staked  all.  Yet  he  who 
could  have  looked  into  that  broad  breast  could  have 
seen  that  heart  beating  as  never  before.  Firmly  he 
stepped  on. 


CHAPTER  XXVII 

COMRADE!    GENERAL!    EMPEROR! 

"BEHOLD  the  traitor,"  shouted  the  Marquis,  his 
emotion  lending  depth  to  that  thin  voice.  "Fire, 
soldiers ! " 

No  finger  pressed  a  trigger.  The  silence  was 
ghastly. 

Ah!  a  thrill  of  hope  in  the  breast  of  the  greater 
Captain,  of  despair  in  the  heart  of  the  lesser. 

"By  God!"  muttered  Yeovil,  "he  has  lost  them!" 

The  Marquis  spurred  his  horse  forward. 

"Your  oath!  For  France!  The  King!  Fire!" 
he  shouted. 

And  now  a  greater  voice  broke  the  silence. 

"Comrades !  Do  you  not  know  me?"  said  the  Em 
peror.  Was  there  a  tremble  in  his  clear,  magnificent 
voice?  He  paused,  his  speech  stopped.  "Behold 
your  General,"  he  resumed.  He  waited  a  few  sec 
onds  again  and  then  finally,  desperately,  "Let  any 
one  among  you  who  wishes  to  kill  his  Emperor  fire 
— now." 

He  raised  his  voice  tremendously  with  that  last 
word.  It  almost  came  with  the  force  and  clearness 
of  a  battle-cry.  The  Marquis  sat  stupefied,  his  face 
ghastly  pale. 

309 


310    THE  EAGLE  OF  THE  EMPIRE 

"There  is  yet  time,"  he  cried  hoarsely  at  last.  "Is 
there  none  here  faithful  to  his  King?  Fire!" 

But  the  gun-barrels  were  coming  down.  "Com 
rade!  General!  Emperor!"  who  could  be  indif 
ferent  to  that  appeal?  Disregarding  the  old  Mar 
quis  absolutely,  as  if  he  were  not  on  the  earth,  the 
Emperor  came  nearer  smiling.  He  was  irresistible 
to  these  soldiers  when  he  smiled. 

"Well,"  he  said,  his  hands  outstretched  and 
open,  "soldiers  of  the  Fifth,  who  were  with  me  in 
Italy,  how  are  you  all?  I  am  come  back  to  see  you 
again,  mes  enfants,"  he  went  on  genially.  "Is  there 
any  one  of  you  who  wishes  to  kill  me?" 

"No,  no,  Sire.    Certainly  not,"  came  the  cry. 

"Escape,"  whispered  the  Marquis  to  the  English 
man,  "while  there  is  yet  time  to  take  my  niece  away. 
To  you  I  commit  her.  ...  St.  Laurent,  to  the  town 
with  the  tidings!" 

"By  God,  no,"  growled  Yeovil,  as  St.  Laurent  sa 
luted  and  galloped  rapidly  down  the  road.  "I  am 
going  to  see  the  end  of  this.  The  damned  cravens!" 
he  muttered,  looking  at  the  soldiers. 

"And  yet,"  continued  Napoleon  to  the  troops, 
"you  presented  your  guns  at  me." 

"Sire,"  cried  one  of  the  veterans,  dropping  his 
musket  and  running  his  ramrod  down  the  barrel, 
"it  is  not  loaded.  We  only  went  through  the  mo 
tions." 

The  Emperor  laughed.    He  was  nearer. 

"Lestoype,"  he  said,  "is  it  thou,  old  comrade,  and 
Grenier  and  Drehon!" 

It  was  astonishing  that  he  should  remember  them, 


THE  EAGLE'S  FLIGHT         311 

but  so  he  did.  He  went  down  the  line,  speaking  to 
the  men,  inspecting  them  just  as  of  old.  The  officers 
could  not  keep  them  in  line.  They  crowded  about 
their  old  leader.  Shouts  of  "Vive  I'Empereur!"  rent 
the  air.  Men  took  off  their  caps,  tore  out  the  hated 
white  cockades,  trampled  them  under  foot,  and  from 
pockets  where  they  had  concealed  them  for  this  very 
moment,  they  replaced  them  with  the  tricolor. 

In  his  movements  the  Emperor  at  last  confronted 
the  Marquis. 

"And  who  is  this?"  asked  Napoleon,  staring  up 
at  him  curiously. 

The  Marquis'  heart  was  broken.  It  was  not  in 
the  human  power  of  any  servant  of  the  King  to 
dominate  that  scene.  A  greater  personality  than  his 
was  there.  The  Emperor  had  shown  himself  as  of 
yore,  and  exhibited  his  mastery.  But  no  greater 
ideal  possessed  any  man  than  that  in  the  heart  of  the 
old  noble.  He  hated,  he  loathed,  he  abominated  the 
man  who  looked  up  at  him.  He  saw  in  the  action 
of  the  soldiery  a  picture  of  the  action  of  France,  the 
downfall  of  the  King.  Well,  it  flashed  into  his 
mind  that  he  at  least,  and  perhaps  he  alone,  might 
put  a  stop  to  it.  From  his  holster  he  whipped  out 
a  pistol  and  leveled  it  at  the  Emperor.  Lestoype, 
riding  near,  struck  up  his  hand,  the  bullet  sped 
harmlessly,  the  Emperor  stood  unharmed.  A  roar 
of  rage  burst  from  the  soldiers  who  came  running. 
Dropping  the  weapon  and  reining  his  startled  horse 
violently  back,  so  as  to  give  himself  a  certain  pres 
ent  and  temporary  freedom  of  action,  the  Marquis 
drew  his  other  pistol.  Lestoype  spurred  his  horse 


312     THE  EAGLE  OF  THE  EMPIRE 

in  front  of  the  Emperor,  but  Napoleon  was  not 
menaced. 

"Have  no  fear,"  said  the  Marquis  almost  gently. 
"I  have  failed  my  King.  The  bullet  goes  into  a  truer 
heart — my  own,"  he  added  proudly. 

Before  any  one  could  stop  him  there  was  a  flash, 
a  muffled  report,  the  spare  figure  reeled  and  fell  for 
ward  on  the  saddle.  He,  at  least,  after  the  manner 
of  his  house,  would  not  survive  a  failure  which,  al 
though  he  could  not  prevent  it,  must  inevitably  be 
charged  against  him. 

"A  brave  man,"  said  the  Emperor  coolly,  staring 
at  him  with  his  hard,  bright,  gray  eyes.  "See  that 
his  body  is  cared  for  in  accordance  with  his  rank 
and  his  courage.  But  who  are  these?"  he  asked,  re 
mounting  his  horse  and  facing  the  two  Englishmen, 
who  had  dismounted  and  received  the  body  of  the 
Marquis,  stone  dead  instantly.  "As  I  live,  it  is  the 
man  of  law,"  he  said,  his  marvelous  memory  serving 
him  well  again,  "who  was  at  the  Chateau  d'Aume- 
nier.  It  only  needs  Marteau " 

"He  is  alive,  your  Majesty,"  interposed  Lestoype 
eagerly.  "He  brought  back  our  Eagle  and  is " 

"Where  is  it,  and  why  is  he  not  with  you?" 

"The  Eagle  is  in  hiding  somewhere  in  Grenoble, 
Marteau  in  prison.  He  hid  it,  and  because  he  would 
not  tell  where,  the  Marquis  yonder  condemned  him 
to  death." 

"He  has  not  yet  been  shot?" 

"Not  yet,  Sire.  He  waits  the  return  of  the  regi 
ment." 

"Good,"  said  the  Emperor.    "We  will  surprise  him. 


Face  the  men  about.  We  shall  go  on  to  Grenoble 
and  see  what  welcome  awaits  us  there." 

He  was  in  high  spirits.  In  this  first  clash  with  the 
troops  of  King  Louis  he  found  that  he  exercised  the 
old  influence  over  them  and  from  the  army,  at  least, 
he  now  realized  that  he  had  nothing  to  fear. 

One  of  the  men  who  had  stood  nearest  the  Em 
peror  back  of  Cambronne  was  an  old  grenadier.  He 
had  recognized  the  Marquis  d'Aumenier,  he  had 
heard  the  Emperor's  conversation  and  the  name  of 
Marteau,  and  a  thrill  went  through  the  heart  of  old 
Bal-Arret  when  he  learned  that  his  beloved  officer 
and  friend  was  yet  alive. 

The  body  of  the  old  Marquis — covered  with  his 
cloak,  and  over  his  heart  the  now  discarded  royal 
standard,  for  which  nobody  cared  since  he  was  dead 
— was  placed  on  a  farm  wagon  and  escorted  back  to 
Grenoble  by  some  of  the  officers  of  the  regiment  and 
two  companies,  with  reversed  arms.  He  was  watched 
over  by  the  two  Englishmen,  whom  Napoleon  freely 
permitted  to  follow  their  own  pleasure  in  their 
movements,  being  desirous  of  not  adding  fuel  to  any 
possible  fire  of  animosity  and  of  showing  every  re 
spect  to  every  Frenchman,  whatever  his  predilection. 

With  the  Fifth-of-the-Line  in  the  lead,  the  army 
moved  forward  after  a  halt  for  noonday  meal.  The 
greatly  relieved,  happy  and  confident  Emperor,  rid 
ing  now  with  the  old  regiment  of  Italy  in  the  van, 
and  now  with  the  grenadiers  in  the  rear,  approached 
Grenoble  late  in  the  afternoon.  The  short  March 
day  was  drawing  to  a  close  when  they  came  in  sight 
of  the  heavily  garrisoned  walls  of  the  town. 


314    THE  EAGLE  OF  THE  EMPIRE 

Labedoyere  had  obeyed  orders  in  some  particu 
lars.  The  ramparts  had  been  manned,  the  cannon 
were  loaded,  torches  were  blazing  on  the  walls,  and 
the  town  was  awake  and  seething  with  excitement. 
He  had  declared  for  the  Emperor,  and  after  a  sharp 
little  conflict  had  disarmed  the  royalist  cavalry  and 
himself  held  the  gates.  Every  regiment  that  had 
come  in  had  cast  its  lot  in  with  Napoleon.  As  the 
soldiers  in  the  town  heard,  in  the  twilight,  the  beat 
ing  of  the  drums — "La  Grenadiere"  the  old  march 
again! — the  Colonel  of  the  Seventh,  having  seized 
the  few  royalists,  opened  the  gates,  marched  out  at 
the  head  of  the  troops  to  receive  the  Emperor  with 
arms,  yes,  but  with  open  arms.  Amid  the  shouts 
of  the  citizens  and  the  delirious  joy  of  the  soldiery, 
the  Emperor  entered  the  city ;  in  his  train,  first  fruits 
of  the  war,  was  the  body  of  the  old  servant  of  the 
unfortunate  King. 

It  was  Pierre  who  burst  into  the  apartment  of 
the  little  Countess  with  the  news. 

"The  Emperor  is  here,  mademoiselle,"  he  cried  en 
thusiastically.  "The  soldiers  are  bringing  him  to 
the  palace." 

"And  Marteau?" 

"He  will  be  free." 

"Thank  God!"  cried  the  girl,  and  then  she  re 
membered  her  uncle.  "And  the  Marquis?"  she 
asked. 

"My  dearest  Laure,"  said  the  kindly,  sympathetic 
voice  of  Captain  Frank  Yeovil,  stepping  out  of  the 
twilight  of  the  hall  into  the  bright  light  of  the  little 
drawing-room  where  last  night  she  had  bade  fare- 


THE  EAGLE'S  FLIGHT         315 

well  to  Marteau,  "prepare  yourself  for  some 
dreadful " 

"Yes,  yes,  I  know,"  she  interrupted.  "The  Em 
peror  is  here." 

"The  troops  went  over  to  him." 

"And  my  uncle?" 

"He " 

"Speak,  monsieur.  What  has  happened?  Did 
the  Emperor — 

"No  one  harmed  him.  He  could  not  survive  the 
disgrace,  mademoiselle.  Prepare  yourself." 

"Oh,  for  God's  sake,  delay  not  your  tidings." 

"He  died  like  a  soldier  of  France  on  the  field,  by 
his  own  hand  rather  than  survive  what  he  wrong 
fully  thought  his  shame." 

It  was  the  policy  of  the  Emperor  to  be  merciful; 
it  was  his  wish  to  be  clement.  If  possible,  he  wanted 
peace.  If  mercy  and  gentleness  could  get  it  he  could 
have  it.  He  gave  free  permission  to  Sir  Gervaise 
Yeovil  and  his  son  to  return  to  England.  He  made 
no  objection  to  their  taking  with  them  the  Countess 
Laure,  now  the  last  of  the  line.  He,  himself,  was 
present  at  the  funeral  of  the  Marquis,  who  was  bur 
ied  with  all  the  military  honors  of  his  rank  and  sta 
tion.  There  were  generous  hearts  among  those 
Frenchmen.  As  the  representative  of  the  King  they 
had  hated  him,  but  when  he  had  died  so  gallantly 
rather  than  survive  what  his  nice  sensibility  be 
lieved  to  be  his  dishonor,  his  failure  at  any  rate, 
they  honored  him.  If  he  had  been  a  Marshal  of 
France  they  could  have  done  no  more. 

Marteau,  restored  to  his  rank  and  position  as 


316    THE  EAGLE  OF  THE  EMPIRE 

aide  to  the  Emperor,  had  but  a  few  moments  with 
the  grief-stricken  woman. 

"No,"  she  said  sadly,  "it  makes  no  difference. 
You  know  my  heart.  No  words  that  I  can  utter 
could  add  anything  more  to  the  testimony  I  have 
given  you.  But  I  had  promised  my  uncle,  and  now 
that  he  is  dead,  the  promise  is  doubly  sacred.  I 
must  go.  Thank  your  Emperor  for  me  for  all  he  has 
done  for  me,  his  enemy,  and  for  my  friends,  and  for 
what  he  has  done  for  you.  Tell  him  the  story  of 
the  Eagle,  and  the  little  part  in  it  that  I  played  and 
— you  will  not  forget  me  as  I  will  not  forget  you." 

"God  grant,"  said  the  young  soldier,  "that  I  may 
die  for  France  on  some  battlefield,  my  last  thought 
of  you." 

"Ah,  if  that  should  befall  you,  I  should  envy  you 
your  rest.  Would  to  God  I  might  look  forward  to 
such  a  quick  and  happy  ending,"  said  the  grief- 
stricken  woman,  turning  away. 

The  next  morning,  with  great  ceremony  and  much 
rejoicing,  the  Eagle  was  brought  out,  and  the  Em 
peror  once  more  presented  it  to  the  regiment.  He 
did  more  than  that.  He  signalized  the  action  of  the 
Fifth-of-the-Line,  the  news  of  which  had  been  sent 
broadcast  by  couriers  and  which  struck  a  keynote 
for  the  army  to  follow,  by  incorporating  it  as  a  sup 
plementary  Fifth  regiment  of  Grenadiers  of  the 
Guard.  He  promised  them  a  new  flag  and  new 
bearskins.  He  promoted  Lestoype  to  be  a  lieuten 
ant-colonel,  Labedoyere  to  be  a  general,  and  prom 
ised  every  veteran  officer  his  old  rank  or  higher  in 
the  new  army  to  be  formed.  The  men  were  prom- 


THE  EAGLE'S  FLIGHT         317 

ised  bounties  and  rewards,  and,  with  high  hopes 
and  glorious  anticipations,  the  march  for  Paris  was 
begun. 

So  by  the  wayside  and  in  the  fields  around  this 
little  army  in  that  springtime,  the  violets  bloomed 
again. 


BOOK  III 
THE  LAST  TRY 


CHAPTER   XXVIII 

AT  THE   STAMP   OF  THE   EMPEROR'S   FOOT 

THE  wonderful  genius  of  Napoleon,  which  had 
been  so  clearly  manifested  in  so  many  ways  dur 
ing  his  varied  career,  was  never  exhibited  to  better 
advantage  than  in  the  three  months  after  his  re 
turn  from  Elba.  During  that  period  he  reorganized 
the  government,  recreated  and  reequipped  an  army. 
The  veterans  flocked  to  his  standards,  and  within 
the  time  mentioned  he  had  actually  two  hundred 
and  fifty  thousand  men  under  arms. 

With  the  better  moiety  of  this  force,  the  best 
armed,  the  best  equipped,  the  best  officered  con 
tingent,  he  took  the  field  early  in  the  month  of 
June.  The  Emperor  did  not  want  war  any  more 
than  France  did.  He  began  his  new  reign  with 
the  most  pacific  of  proclamations,  which  probably 
reflected  absolutely  the  whole  desire  of  his  heart. 
But  the  patience  of  Europe  had  been  exhausted  and 
the  belief  of  rulers  and  peoples  in  the  honesty  of 
his  professions,  declarations  or  intentions,  had  been 
hopelessly  shattered. 

His  arrival  effected  an  immediate  resurrection  of 
the  almost  moribund  Congress  of  Vienna.  The 
squabbling,  arguing,  trifling  plenipotentiaries  of  the 
powers  had  burst  into  gigantic  laughter — literally, 

321 


322    THE  EAGLE  OF  THE  EMPIRE 

actual  merriment,  albeit  of  a  somewhat  grim  char 
acter! — when  they  received  the  news  of  Napoleon's 
return.  They  were  not  laughing  at  Napoleon  but 
at  themselves.  They  had  been  dividing  the  lion's 
skin  in  high-flown  phrases,  which  meant  nothing, 
endeavoring  to  incorporate  the  Decalogue  and  the 
Sermon  on  the  Mount  in  their  protocols  and  trea 
ties,  when  they  suddenly  discovered  that  the  Em 
peror  was  still  to  be  reckoned  with. 

Differences  were  instantly  laid  aside  and  forgot 
ten.  Russia,  Prussia  and  Austria  immediately 
agreed  to  put  in  the  field  two  hundred  and  fifty 
thousand  men  each.  The  smaller  powers,  Sweden, 
Spain,  the  Low  Countries,  promised  contingents. 
England  once  more  assumed  the  familiar  role  of  pay 
master  by  immediately  placing  a  vast  subsidy  at 
the  disposal  of  the  allies.  She  gave  them  also  what 
was  of  more  value  than  a  subsidy,  a  soldier  of  the 
first  rank  to  command  the  armies  in  the  field. 

The  Duke  of  Wellington  had  never  crossed  swords 
with  the  greatest  captain  of  his  day  and  perhaps 
of  all  time.  But  he  had  measured  himself  with  the 
ablest  and  most  famous  of  Napoleon's  Marshals. 
With  greatly  inferior  forces,  through  four  years 
of  desperate  fighting,  he  had  defeated  the  Marshals 
and  armies  of  France.  The  dashing  and  gallant 
Junot  had  been  routed  at  Vimiero,  Victor  had  been 
overwhelmed  at  Talavera.  Wily  old  Massena  with 
all  his  ability  could  look  back  to  the  disaster  of 
the  blood-stained  hill  of  Busaco,  Marmont,  the 
dainty  tactician,  had  been  smashed  at  Salamanca, 
stubborn  Jourdan  had  been  at  last  decisively  de- 


THE  LAST  TRY  323 

feated  at  Victoria.  Finally,  the  brilliant  Soult  had 
been  hurled  out  of  the  Pyrenees  and  had  met  his 
master  at  Toulouse.  Still,  great  as  were  these  sol 
diers  and  highly  trained  as  they  had  been  in  the 
best  of  schools,  not  one  of  them  was  a  Napoleon; 
all  of  them  together  were  not,  for  that  matter. 
Would  the  luster  of  Wellington's  fame,  which  ex 
tended  from  the  Ganges  to  the  Ebro,  be  tarnished 
when  he  met  the  Emperor?  It  was  a  foregone  con 
clusion,  of  course,  that  Schwarzenberg  would  com 
mand  the  Austrians;  Bliicher,  the  "Hussar  Gen 
eral,"  the  hard-fighting,  downright  old  "Marshal 
Vorwarts,"  the  Prussians;  and  the  Emperor  Alex 
ander,  with  his  veteran  captains,  the  vast  horde  of 
Russians. 

To  assemble,  arm,  equip  and  move  two  hundred 
and  fifty  thousand  men  was  a  great  task  in  those 
days  even  for  a  rich  and  populous  country  flushed 
with  victory  and  in  the  enjoyment  of  an  abundance 
of  time  and  unlimited  means.  The  organizing,  it 
almost  might  be  said  the  creative,  ability  of  Napo 
leon  was  not  shared  by  his  opponents.  Try  as  they 
would,  June  found  their  preparations  still  woefully 
incomplete.  The  Austrians  had  scarcely  moved  at 
all.  The  slower  Russians,  who  were  farther  away 
and  were  to  constitute  the  reserve  army,  could  be 
discounted  from  any  present  calculation  of  the  ene 
mies  of  the  Empire.  The  English  and  their  smaller 
allies  from  the  Low  Countries,  and  the  Prussians, 
whose  hatred  of  France  and  the  Emperor  was 
greater  than  that  of  any  other  nation,  were  quicker 
to  move.  Two  hundred  and  fifteen  thousand  men, 


324    THE  EAGLE  OF  THE  EMPIRE 

half  of  them  Prussians,  a  third  of  the  other  moiety 
English,  the  remaining  two-thirds  Belgians,  Hol 
landers,  and  other  miscellaneous  nationalities,  had 
joined  the  colors  on  the  northwestern  frontier  of 
France.  One-half  of  this  joint  assembly  was  com 
manded  by  Bliicher  and  the  other  half  by  Welling 
ton. 

Leaving  the  weaker  half  of  his  own  great  army 
to  complete  its  equipment,  and  placing  strong  de 
tachments  in  fortress  and  at  strategetic  points  to 
oppose  the  Austrians  should  they  advance,  the  Em 
peror,  as  has  been  said,  with  about  one  hundred  and 
twenty-five  thousand  men  took  the  field.  Naturally, 
inevitably,  Belgium,  the  immemorial  battleground 
of  the  nations,  and  the  great  English-Prussian  army 
were  his  objectives.  He  saw  clearly  the  dangers  that 
encompassed  him,  the  demands  he  must  meet  and 
the  conditions  over  which  he  must  triumph. 

It  was  by  no  means  certain,  even  if  he  decisively 
defeated  his  enemies  in  Belgium  and  occupied  Brus 
sels,  that  his  trouble  would  be  over.  There  would 
still  be  left  a  possible  five  hundred  thousand  trained 
and  disciplined  men  with  whom  he  would  have  to 
deal,  under  rulers  and  generals  the  inveteracy  of 
whose  hatreds  he  could  well  understand.  But  at 
least  his  position  would  be  greatly  improved  by  a 
successful  preliminary  campaign,  any  success  in 
short,  to  say  nothing  of  so  great  a  one.  If  he  could 
show  himself  once  more  the  inimitable  Captain,  the 
thunderbolt  of  war,  the  organizer  of  victory,  the 
Napoleon  of  other  days,  the  effect  upon  France,  at 


THE  LAST  TRY  325 

least,  would  be  electrical.  And  the  world  would 
again  take  notice. 

The  Emperor  had  to  admit  that,  save  in  the 
army,  there  had  not  been  much  response  from  tired- 
out,  exhausted  France,  to  the  appeals  of  its  once 
irresistible  and  beloved  leader.  But  the  spirit  of 
the  army  was  that  of  devotion  itself.  There  was  a 
kind  of  a  blind  madness  in  it  of  which  men  spoke 
afterward  as  a  phenomenon  that  could  only  be 
recognized,  that  could  never  be  explained  or  under 
stood.  They  could  not  account  for  it.  Yet  it  was 
a  powerful  factor,  the  most  powerful,  indeed,  that 
enabled  the  Emperor  to  accomplish  so  much,  and 
fall  short  of  complete  triumph  by  so  narrow  a  mar 
gin. 

The  spirit  of  this  new  army  was  not  that  burning 
love  of  liberty  which  had  animated  the  armies  of  the 
early  republic  and  turned  its  tatterdemalion  legions 
into  paladins.  It  was  not  the  heroic  consecration 
of  the  veterans  of  later  years  to  their  native  land. 
It  was  a  strange,  mysterious  obsession,  a  personal 
attachment  to  Napoleon,  the  individual — an  un 
limited,  unbounded  tribute  to  his  fascination,  to  his 
own  unique  personality.  It  has  not  died  out,  and 
seems  destined  to  live.  Even  in  death  Napoleon, 
after  a  century,  exercises  the  same  fascination  over 
all  sorts  and  conditions  of  men!  Wise  and  foolish 
alike  acknowledge  his  spell.  Men  hate,  men  loathe 
much  of  that  for  which  the  Corsican  adventurer 
and  soldier  of  fortune  stood;  they  see  clearly  and 
admit  freely  the  thorough  and  entire  selfishness  of 


326    THE  EAGLE  OF  THE  EMPIRE 

the  colossal  man,  but  they  cannot  resist  his  appeal, 
even  after  one  hundred  years! 

Yet  in  the  long  run  no  personal  attachment,  how 
ever  deep,  however  ardent,  however  complete,  can 
take  the  place  as  the  inspiration  for  heroic  deeds 
of  that  deeper  passion  of  love  of  country.  Nor  can 
any  personal  devotion  to  a  mere  man  produce  such 
a  steadfastness  of  character  as  is  brought  about  by 
adherence  to  a  great  cause  or  a  great  land.  A  great 
passion  like  the  love  of  a  people  for  a  great  coun 
try  and  that  for  which  it  stands  is  eternal.  Usually 
the  feet  of  clay  upon  which  the  idol  stands  have 
only  to  be  recognized  to  dissipate  the  ardor  and 
fervor  of  the  worshipers.  But  Napoleon  was  then 
an  exception  to  all  rules.  Though  he  slew  men, 
wasted  them,  threw  them  away,  they  trusted  him. 
We  look  at  him  through  the  vista  of  years  and  in 
some  way  understand  his  soldiers.  Reason  to  the 
contrary,  we  can  experience  in  some  degree,  at  least, 
even  in  the  cold-blooded  humanitarian  materialism 
of  the  present,  the  old  thrill  and  the  old  admiration. 
Did  his  contemporaries  love  him  because  they  be 
lieved  he  thought  in  terms  of  France,  we  wonder? 

So  that  this  body  of  soldiery  was  probably  the 
most  formidable  army  in  the  quality  of  its  units 
that  had  ever  been  mustered  on  the  globe.  There 
was  not  a  man  in  it  who  was  not  a  veteran.  Some 
of  them  were  veterans  of  fifteen  years  of  campaign 
ing  with  Napoleon.  This  that  came  was  to  be  the 
sixtieth  pitched  battle  in  which  some  of  them  had 
participated.  Even  the  younger  men  had  gone 
through  more  than  one  campaign  and  taken  part  in 


THE  LAST  TRY  327 

much  hard  fighting.  Back  from  the  prisons  where 
they  had  been  confined  and  the  great  fortresses  they 
had  held  until  the  Emperor's  abdication  had  come 
the  veterans.  The  Old  Guard  had  been  reconsti 
tuted.  As  a  reward  for  its  action  at  Grenoble,  the 
Fifth-of-the-Line  had  been  incorporated  in  it  as  a 
supplementary  regiment,  a  second  Fifth  regiment  of 
Grenadiers.  The  ranks  of  the  Guard  had  been  most 
carefully  culled,  the  unserviceable  had  been  weeded 
out,  their  places  taken  by  men  well  fitted  by  their 
record,  their  physical  prowess  and  their  personal 
appearance  to  belong  to  that  famous  corps.  Not  the 
Immortals  of  Xerxes,  the  Spartan  Band  of  Leoni- 
das,  the  Companion  Cavalry  of  Alexander,  the  Car 
thaginians  of  Hannibal,  the  Tenth  Legion  of  Caesar, 
the  Spanish  Infantry  of  Parma,  or  the  Ironsides  of 
Cromwell,  had  surpassed  the  record  of  these  Pre- 
torians  of  Imperial  France. 

The  same  weeding-out  process  had  been  carried 
out  in  the  rest  of  the  army.  The  flower  of  French 
cavalry,  the  matchless  French  artillery  and  the 
famous  infantry  which  had  trampled  down  the 
world  were  ranged  under  the  Eagles.  Other  corps 
had  been  drained  for  equipment.  But  in  some  par 
ticulars  the  army  differed  from  the  Imperial  armies 
of  the  past.  With  two  exceptions,  the  great  Mar 
shals  were  not  there.  Murat,  king  of  horsemen  and 
swordsmen,  was  a  prisoner  in  his  ignoble  Neapolitan 
realm  awaiting  trial  and  execution.  Marmont  and 
Mortier  dared  not  present  themselves  before  the 
Emperor  they  had  betrayed.  Wily  Massena,  the 
wisest  and  ablest  of  them  all,  was  old  and  in  con- 


328    THE  EAGLE  OF  THE  EMPIRE 

venient  retirement.  Macdonald,  the  incorruptible, 
was  with  the  fat-bodied,  fat-witted  Bourbon  King 
in  Ghent.  Berthier,  with  his  marvelous  mastery  of 
detail  and  his  almost  uncanny  ability  to  translate 
the  Emperor's  thoughts  even  into  orders,  had  not 
rejoined  the  Eagles — a  terrible  loss,  indeed. 

There  were  but  two  of  the  Marshals  of  old  with 
Napoleon.  Soult,  in  some  respects  the  acutest  strate 
gist  and  finest  tactician,  was  Chief  of  Staff.  He 
tried  his  best  to  fill  Berthier's  position  and  did  it 
acceptably,  if  not  with  the  success  of  that  master. 
The  other  Marshal  was  preeminently  the  battle- 
leader,  red-headed  Michael  Ney,  the  fighter  of  fight 
ers,  a  man  whose  personality  was  worth  an  army- 
corps,  whose  reputation  and  influence  with  the  sol 
diers  was  of  the  very  highest. 

The  rest  of  the  officers,  while  veterans,  were 
younger  and  less-known  men.  Drouet  d'Erlon  com 
manded  one  of  the  corps;  Reille  another;  Grouchy 
another ;  Druot  was  the  leader  of  the  Guard ;  Keller- 
man,  Milhaud,  Gerard  and  Maurice  the  cavalry.  It 
was  an  army  of  veterans,  officered  by  young  men, 
commanded  by  the  greatest  of  soldiers. 

But  the  army  had  not  yet  "found  itself."  It  had 
no  natural  coherence  and  there  had  been  no  time  to 
acquire  any.  It  had  not  yet  been  welded  together. 
Officers,  men,  regiments,  brigades,  divisions  were, 
more  or  less,  new  and  strange  to  one  another.  There 
was  a  vast  deal  of  suspicion  in  the  ranks.  The  dis 
cipline  was  rather  because  of  past  habit  than  pres 
ent  practice.  That  army  needed  a  few  victories,  and 
badly  needed  them.  A  welding  process  was  re- 


THE  LAST  TRY  829 

quired.  Given  time  and  success  to  shake  it  to 
gether,  and  it  might  laugh  at  the  world. 

Would  it  get  time  and  win  victory?  That  was 
the  question.  And  if  it  got  neither,  what  then? 
How  would  it  stand  up  under  the  strain?  Would 
the  tie  that  bound  hold  in  defeat?  Could  the  rest 
of  the  army  live  up  to  the  Guard,  for  instance?  Yes, 
that  was  the  grave,  the  all-important  question. 

There  was  an  enormous  disparity  in  numbers  be 
tween  the  French  army — or  it  would  better  be 
called  Napoleon's  army — and  that  of  the  allies  he 
purposed  to  attack.  The  allies  were  to  the  French 
in  the  ratio  of  about  two  to  one.  Whatever  else 
was  lacking,  Napoleon  had  not  lost  his  audacity,  nor 
when  his  intentions  are  disclosed  by  a  study  of 
his  plans,  can  it  be  argued  that  his  strategic  inten 
tion  was  lacking  in  brilliancy  or  daring. 

He  determined  with  his  smaller  but  compact  and 
manageable  army  to  thrust  himself  between  the  two 
wings  of  the  somewhat  loosely  coherent  enemy  under 
its  divided  command;  to  hold  off  one  while  he 
smashed  the  other  and  then  to  concentrate  upon 
the  surviving  half  and  mete  out  to  it  the  same  hard 
fortune.  In  other  words,  trusting  to  his  ability,  he 
deliberately  placed  his  own  army  between  two 
others,  each  of  which  practically  equaled  his  own. 
He  thrust  himself  within  the  jaws  of  a  trap,  to  use 
a  homely  simile,  intending  to  hold  one  arm  of  the 
trap  open  while  he  broke  up  the  other.  He  intended 
to  burst  through  the  allied  line  and  smash  up  each 
half  in  succession. 

Of  course  there  was  always  the  danger  that  he 


330    THE  EAGLE  OF  THE  EMPIRE 

could  not  burst  through  that  line;  or  that  he  could 
not  hold  back  one  half  while  he  fought  the  other, 
or  that  holding  back  one  half  he  could  not  beat  the 
other,  or  having  beaten  one  half  he  would  be  too 
weak  to  fall  on  the  other.  There  was  always  the 
danger  that  the  trap  would  be  sprung,  that  he 
would  be  caught  in  its  jaws  or,  to  change  the  meta 
phor,  that  he  would  be  like  the  wheat  between  the 
upper  and  the  nether  millstone.  Still  he  did 
not  think  so,  and  he  did  not  go  into  the  undertak 
ing  blindly.  As  he  had  said,  in  his  own  case,  "War 
was  not  a  conjectural  art,"  and  he  had  most  care 
fully  counted  the  cost,  estimated  the  probabilities. 
In  short,  he  looked  well  before  he  leaped — yet  a 
man  may  look  well  and  leap  wrong  after  all. 

On  these  considerations  he  based  his  grand 
strategy.  The  army  of  the  Prussians  had  approached 
the  French  frontier  from  the  east;  the  army  of  the 
English  and  allies  from  the  northwest.  Napoleon 
had  a  complete  knowledge  of  one  of  the  Captains 
opposing  him.  He  knew  and  accurately  estimated 
Bliicher.  He  did  not  know  and  he  did  not  accu 
rately  estimate  Wellington.  He  viewed  the  latter 
with  contempt;  the  former  with  a  certain  amount 
of  disdainful  approbation,  for  while  Bliicher  was  no 
strategist  and  less  of  a  tactician,  he  was  a  fighter 
and  a  fighter  is  always  dangerous  and  to  be  dreaded. 
Gneisenau,  a  much  more  accomplished  soldier,  was 
Blucher's  second  in  command,  but  he  was  a  negligi 
ble  factor  in  the  Emperor's  mind.  The  fact  that 
Wellington  had  beaten  all  of  Napoleon's  Marshals 
with  whom  he  had  come  in  contact  had  intensified 


THE  LAST  TRY  331 

the  Emperor's  hatred.  Instead  of  begetting  cau 
tion  in  dealing  with  him,  Napoleon's  antagonism 
had  blinded  him  as  to  Wellington's  ability. 

He  also  rated  the  Prussians  higher  than  the  Eng 
lish  as  fighters,  and  when  his  officers,  who  had  felt 
the  power  of  the  thin  red  line  which  had  so  often 
wrecked  the  French  column,  explained  to  him  that 
there  were  no  better  defensive  fighters  on  earth  than 
the  English,  not  even  the  Russians,  he  had  laughed 
them  to  scorn,  attributing  their  warnings  to  the  fact 
that  they  had  been  beaten  in  Spain  and  had  grown 
timid.  The  Emperor  did  not  purpose  to  be  beaten 
hi  France  or  Belgium  by  the  stolid  English. 

In  more  detail  his  first  plan  was  to  confuse  Wel 
lington,  who  held  the  right  of  the  allied  line,  then 
fall  upon  him  before  he  had  time  to  concentrate, 
and  beat  him  or  contain  him  with  a  detachment 
under  Ney,  while  the  Emperor  in  person  thereafter 
put  Bliicher  to  rout — and  all  of  these  things  he  came 
very  near  accomplishing  completely.  Certainly,  he 
carried  out  his  plans  successfully  and  to  the  letter 
until  the  final  day  of  battle. 

He  reasoned  that  if  he  could  beat  Bliicher  and 
threaten  his  communications,  what  was  left  of  the 
Prussian  army,  which  Napoleon  hoped  would  not 
be  much,  would  immediately  retreat  eastward;  and 
that  when  Bliicher  had  been  thrown  out  of  the  game 
for  the  present,  he  could  turn  on  Wellington  and 
his  English  and  allies  and  make  short  work  of 
him.  It  did  not  occur  to  him  that  even  if  he  beat 
Bliicher  and  beat  Wellington,  provided  the  defeats 
did  not  end  in  utter  routs,  and  they  both  retreated, 


332    THE  EAGLE  OF  THE  EMPIRE 

they  might  withdraw  on  parallel  lines  and  effect  a 
junction  later  when  even  after  the  double  defeat 
they  would  still  so  greatly  outnumber  him  that  his 
chances  of  success  would  be  faint  indeed. 

The  possibility  of  their  pursuing  any  other  course 
than  that  he  had  forecast  for  them  never  entered  his 
mind.  His  own  conception  of  their  action  was,  in 
fact,  an  obsession  with  him.  Yet  that  which  he 
thought  they  would  do  they  did  not;  and  that  which 
he  was  confident  they  would  not  do  they  did! 


CHAPTER   XXIX 

WATERLOO — THE  FINAL  REVIEW 

IN  a  romance  like  this,  in  which  campaigns  and 
marches,  maneuvers  and  battles,  however  decisive 
they  may  be  in  history,  are  only  incidental  to  the 
careers  of  the  characters  herein  presented  to  the 
reader,  it  is  not  necessary  for  the  chronicler  to  turn 
himself  into  a  military  historian,  much  as  he  would 
like  it.  Therefore,  in  great  restraint,  he  presses  on, 
promising  hereafter  only  so  much  history  as  may 
serve  to  show  forth  the  somber  background. 

In  this  setting  of  the  scene  of  the  great  drama 
to  be  played,  young  Marteau  has  been  necessarily 
somewhat  lost  sight  of.  He  was  very  much  in  evi 
dence  during  that  hundred  days  of  feverish  and 
frantic  activity.  Napoleon  had  distinguished  him 
highly.  He  had  given  him  the  rank  of  a  Colonel  of 
the  Guard,  but  he  had  still  retained  him  on  his  staff. 
Good  and  experienced  staff-officers  were  rare,  and 
the  Emperor  needed  all  he  could  get;  he  could  have 
used  many  more  than  were  available.  And  as  Mar 
teau  was  one  of  those  who  were  attached  to  the 
Emperor  by  the  double  motive  of  love  of  the  man 
and  love  of  his  country,  believing  as  he  did  that  the 
destiny  of  the  two  could  not  be  dissevered,  he  had 
served  the  Emperor  most  efficiently,  with  that  blind, 

333 


334    THE  EAGLE  OF  THE  EMPIRE 

passionate  devotion  to  duty  by  which  men  give  to 
a  cause  the  best  that  is  in  them  and  which  some 
times  leads  them  to  almost  inconceivable  heights  of 
achievements. 

Suffice  it  to  say  that  the  great  strategic  con 
ception  of  Napoleon  was  carried  out  with  rather 
striking  success  in  the  first  three  days  of  the  cam 
paign.  The  Emperor,  crossing  the  Sambre,  inter 
posed  himself  between  Wellington  and  Bliicher, 
completely  deceived  the  Englishman,  who  thought 
his  extreme  right  was  threatened,  detached  Ney  to 
seize  the  village  of  Quatre  Bras,  where  Wellington 
had  at  last  decided  to  concentrate,  and  with  eighty 
thousand  men  fell  on  the  Prussians  at  Ligny. 

Ney  did  not  seize  Quatre  Bras;  Wellington  got 
there  ahead  of  him  and  stubbornly  held  the  posi 
tion.  Although  Ney  had  twice  the  number  of  troops 
at  the  beginning  of  the  battle  that  the  English 
Field-Marshal  could  muster,  they  were  not  well  han 
dled  and  no  adequate  use  was  made  of  the  French 
preponderance.  Napoleon,  on  the  far  right  of  Ney, 
at  Ligny,  on  the  contrary,  fought  the  Prussians 
with  his  old-time  skill  and  brilliance.  The  contend 
ing  forces  there  were  about  equal,  the  Prussians 
having  the  advantage  in  numbers,  but  victory 
finally  declared  for  the  Emperor.  It  was  the  last 
victory,  not  the  least  brilliant  and  not  the  least  des 
perately  fought  of  his  long  career.  The  importance 
and  quality  of  the  battle  has  been  lost  sight  of  in 
the  greater  struggle  of  Waterloo,  which  took  place 
two  days  after,  but  it  was  a  great  battle,  never 
theless.  One  of  the  crude  ways  in  which  to  esti- 


THE  LAST  TRY  335 

mate  a  battle  is  by  what  is  called  the  "butcher's  bill" 
and  eighteen  thousand  dead  and  wounded  Prussians 
and  twelve  thousand  Frenchmen  tells  its  tale.  But 
it  was  not  the  decisive  battle  that  Napoleon  had 
planned  to  make  it. 

The  Prussians  retreated.  They  had  to.  But  they 
retreated  in  good  order.  Bliicher  having  been  un 
horsed  and  temporarily  incapacitated  in  a  charge, 
the  command  and  direction  of  the  retreat  devolved 
upon  Gneisenau.  His  chief  claim  to  military  dis 
tinction  lies  in  the  fact  that  he  did  not  do  what 
Napoleon  expected,  and  what  Bliicher  would  have 
done.  He  retreated  to  the  north  instead  of  the 
east!  A  pursuit  was  launched,  but  it  did  not  pur 
sue  the  Prussians.  It  went  off,  as  it  were,  into  thin 
air.  It  pursued  Napoleon's  idea,  his  forecast,  which 
owing  to  the  accident  to  Bliicher  was  wrong ! 

One  reason  why  the  victory  of  Ligny  and  the 
drawn  battle  at  Quatre  Bras  were  not  decisive  was 
because  of  a  strange  lack  of  generalship  and  a 
strange  confusion  of  orders  for  which  Napoleon  and 
Ney  are  both  responsible.  Ney  was  constructively 
a  victor  at  Quatre  Bras,  finally.  That  is,  the  Eng 
lish  retreated  at  nightfall  and  abandoned  the  field 
to  him;  but  they  retreated  not  because  they  were 
beaten  but  because  Wellington,  finding  his  position 
could  be  bettered  by  retirement  and  concentration, 
decided  upon  withdrawal.  But  Ney  could  have  been 
the  victor  in  every  sense,  in  spite  of  his  indifferent 
tactics,  if  it  had  not  been  for  the  same  blunder  that 
the  Emperor  committed. 

D'Erlon,  at  the  head  of  perhaps  the  finest  corps 


336    THE  EAGLE  OF  THE  EMPIRE 

in  the  army,  numbering  twenty  thousand  men, 
through  the  long  hours  of  that  hot  June  day  marched 
from  the  vicinity  of  Quatre  Bras  to  Ligny,  whence 
he  could  actually  see  the  battle  raging,  only  to  be 
summoned  back  from  Ligny  to  Quatre  Bras  by  or 
ders  from  Ney.  Retracing  his  course,  therefore,  he 
marched  back  over  the  route  he  had  just  traversed, 
arriving  at  Quatre  Bras  too  late  to  be  of  any  service 
to  Ney !  Like  the  famous  King  of  France  who  with 
twenty  thousand  men  marched  up  the  hill  and  then 
marched  down  again,  this  splendid  corps  which, 
thrown  into  either  battle,  would  have  turned  the 
Prussian  retreat  into  a  rout  on  the  one  hand,  or  have 
utterly  cut  to  pieces  Wellington  on  the  other,  did 
nothing.  The  principal  fault  was  Napoleon's.  He 
saw  d'Erlon's  corps  approaching,  but  he  sent  no  or 
der  and  took  no  steps  to  put  it  into  the  battle. 

Well,  in  spite  of  the  fact  that  the  energies  of 
d'Erlon  had  been  spent  in  marching  instead  of  fight 
ing,  the  Emperor  was  a  happy  man  that  night.  He 
had  got  himself  safely  placed  between  the  two 
armies  and  he  had  certainly  severely  if  not  decisively 
beaten  one  of  them.  Strategically,  his  operations 
had  been  characterized  by  unusual  brilliancy.  If 
things  went  as  he  hoped,  surmised  and  confidently 
expected,  all  would  be  well.  He  was  absolutely  sure 
that  Bliicher  was  retiring  to  the  east,  toward 
Namur.  He  dispatched  Grouchy  with  thirty-five 
thousand  of  his  best  men  to  pursue  him  in  the  di 
rection  which  he  supposed  he  had  taken. 

Napoleon's  orders  were  positive,  and  he  was  ac 
customed  to  exact  implicit  obedience  from  his  subor- 


THE  LAST  TRY  337 

dinates.  He  had  a  habit  of  discouraging  independent 
action  in  the  sternest  of  ways,  and  for  the  elimina 
tion  of  this  great  force  from  the  subsequent  battle 
the  Emperor  himself  must  accept  the  larger  respon 
sibility.  But  all  this  does  not  excuse  Grouchy.  He 
carried  out  his  orders  faithfully,  to  be  sure,  but  a 
more  enterprising  and  more  independent  commander 
would  have  sooner  discovered  that  he  was  pursuing 
stragglers  and  would  earlier  have  taken  the  right 
course  to  regain  his  touch  with  his  chief  and  to 
harry  the  Prussian  Field-Marshal.  He  did  turn  to 
the  north  at  last,  but  when  the  great  battle  was 
joined  he  was  miles  away  and  of  no  more  use  than 
if  he  had  been  in  Egypt.  His  attack  on  the  Prus 
sian  rear-guard  at  Wavre,  while  it  brought  about  a 
smart  little  battle  with  much  hard  and  gallant  fight 
ing,  really  amounted  to  nothing  and  had  absolutely 
no  bearing  on  the  settlement  of  the  main  issue  else 
where.  He  did  not  disobey  orders,  but  many  a  man 
has  gained  immortality  and  fame  by  doing  that  very 
thing.  Grouchy  had  his  chance  and  failed  to  im 
prove  it.  He  was  a  veteran  and  a  successful  soldier, 
too. 

Comes  the  day  of  Waterloo.  Bliicher  had  re 
treated  north  to  Wavre  and  was  within  support 
ing  distance  of  Wellington.  His  army  had  been 
beaten  but  not  crushed,  its  spirit  was  not  abated. 
The  old  Prussian  Marshal,  badly  bruised  and  shaken 
from  being  unhorsed  and  overridden  in  a  cavalry 
charge  in  which  he  had  joined  like  a  common 
trooper,  but  himself  again,  promised  in  a  famous  in 
terview  between  the  two  to  come  to  the  support  of 


338    THE  EAGLE  OF  THE  EMPIRE 

the  younger  English  Marshal,  should  he  be  attacked, 
with  his  whole  army.  Wellington  had  retreated  as 
far  as  he  intended  to.  He  established  his  head 
quarters  on  a  hill  called  Mont  St.  Jean,  back  of  a 
ridge  near  a  village  called  Waterloo,  where  his  army 
commanded  the  junction  point  of  the  highroads 
to  the  south  and  west.  He  drew  up  his  lines,  his 
red-coated  countrymen  and  his  blue-coated  allies  on 
the  long  ridge  in  front  of  Mont  St.  Jean,  facing 
south,  overlooking  a  gently  sloping  valley  which 
was  bounded  by  other  parallel  ridges  about  a  mile 
away.  On  the  right  center  of  Wellington's  lines,  a 
short  distance  below  the  crest  of  the  ridge,  embow 
ered  in  trees,  lay  a  series  of  stone  buildings,  in  ex 
tent  and  importance  between  a  chateau  and  a  farm 
house,  called  Hougomont.  These  were  surrounded 
by  a  stone  wall  and  the  place  was  impregnable 
against  everything  but  artillery  if  it  were  properly 
manned  and  resolutely  held.  Both  those  conditions 
were  met  that  day.  Opposite  the  left  center  of  the 
Duke's  line  was  another  strong  place,  a  farmhouse 
consisting  of  a  series  of  stone  buildings  on  three 
sides  of  a  square,  the  fourth  closed  by  a  wall,  called 
La  Haye  Sainte.  These  outposts  were  of  the  utmost 
value,  rightly  used. 

The  Duke  had  sixty-seven  thousand  men  and  one 
hundred  and  eighty  guns.  His  right  had  been 
strengthened  at  the  expense  of  his  left,  because  he 
expected  Napoleon  to  attack  the  right  and  he 
counted  on  Bliicher's  arrival  to  support  his  left.  To 
meet  him  Napoleon  had  seventy-five  thousand  men 
and  two  hundred  and  sixty  guns.  Off  to  the  north- 


THE  LAST  TRY  339 

east  lay  Bliicher  at  Wavre  with  nearly  eighty  thou 
sand  more  men  and  two  hundred  guns,  and  wander 
ing  around  in  the  outer  darkness  was  Grouchy  with 
thirty-five  thousand. 

The  valley  was  highly  cultivated.  The  ripening 
grain  still  stood  in  the  fallow  fields  separated  by 
low  hedges.  Broad  roads  ran  through  the  valley 
in  different  directions.  The  weather  was  horrible. 
It  rained  torrents  during  the  night  and  the  earlier 
part  of  the  morning.  The  fields  were  turned  into 
quagmires,  the  roads  into  morasses.  It  was  hot  and 
close.  The  humidity  was  great.  Little  air  was  stir 
ring.  Throughout  the  day  the  mist  hung  heavy 
over  the  valley  and  the  ridges  which  bordered  it. 
But  the  rain  ceased  in  the  morning  and  Napoleon 
made  no  attack  until  afternoon,  waiting  for  the 
ground  to  dry  out  somewhat.  It  was  more  im 
portant  to  him  that  his  soldiers  should  have  good 
footing  than  to  the  English,  for  the  offensive,  the 
attack,  the  charge  fell  to  him.  Wellington  deter 
mined  to  fight  strictly  on  the  defensive.  Never 
theless,  precious  hours  were  wasted.  Every  passing 
moment  brought  some  accession  to  the  allied  army, 
and  every  passing  hour  brought  Bliicher  nearer. 
With  all  the  impetuosity  of  his  soul,  the  old  man 
was  urging  his  soldiers  forward  over  the  horrible 
roads. 

"Boys,"  he  said  in  his  rough,  homely  way  to  some 
bitterly  complaining  artillerists  stalled  in  the  mud, 
"I  promised.  You  would  not  have  me  break  my 
word,  would  you?" 

Grouchy  meanwhile  had  at  last  determined  that 


340    THE  EAGLE  OF  THE  EMPIRE 

the  Prussians  had  gone  the  other  way.  He  had 
learned  that  they  were  at  Wavre  and  he  had  swung 
about  and  was  coming  north.  Of  course,  he  should 
have  marched  toward  the  sound  of  the  cannon — 
generally  the  safest  guide  for  a  soldier! — but,  at 
any  rate,  he  was  trying  to  get  into  touch  with  the 
enemy.  No  one  can  question  his  personal  courage 
or  his  loyalty  to  his  cause. 

Napoleon,  when  he  should  have  been  on  the 
alert,  was  very  drowsy  and  dull  that  day  at  Water 
loo.  He  had  shown  himself  a  miracle  of  physical 
strength  and  endurance  in  that  wonderful  four  days 
of  campaigning  and  fighting,  but  the  soldiers  pass 
ing  by  the  farmhouse  of  La  Belle  Alliance — singular 
name  which  referred  so  prophetically  to  the  enemy 
— sometimes  saw  him  sitting  on  a  chair  by  a  table 
outside  the  house,  his  feet  resting  on  a  bundle  of 
straw  to  keep  them  from  the  wet  ground,  nodding, 
asleep!  And  no  wonder.  It  is  doubtful  if  he  had 
enjoyed  as  much  as  eight  hours  of  sleep  since  he 
crossed  the  Sambre,  and  those  not  consecutive! 
Still,  if  ever  he  should  have  kept  awake,  that  eigh 
teenth  of  June  was  the  day  of  days! 

So  far  as  one  can  discern  his  intention,  his  battle 
plan  had  been  to  feint  at  Hougomont  on  the  right 
center,  cause  the  Duke  of  Wellington  to  weaken 
his  line  to  support  the  chateau,  and  then  to  break 
through  the  left  center  and  crush  him  by  one  of 
those  massed  attacks  under  artillery  fire  for  which 
he  had  become  famous.  The  line  once  broken,  the 
end,  of  course,  would  be  more  or  less  certain. 

The  difference  in  the  temperaments  of  the  two 


THE  LAST  TRY  341 

great  Captains  was  well  illustrated  before  the  bat 
tle  was  joined.  The  Duke  mainly  concealed  his  men 
behind  the  ridge.  All  that  the  French  saw  when 
they  came  on  the  field  were  guns,  officers  and  a  few 
men.  The  English-Belgian  army  was  making  no 
parade.  What  the  British  and  Flemish  saw  was 
very  different.  The  Emperor  displayed  his  full 
hand.  The  French,  who  appeared  not  to  have  been 
disorganized  at  all  by  the  hard  fighting  at  Ligny 
and  Quatre  Bras,  came  into  view  in  most  splendid 
style;  bands  playing,  drums  rolling,  swords  wav 
ing,  bayonets  shining  even  in  the  dull  air  of  the 
wretched  morning.  They  came  on  the  field  in  solid 
columns,  deployed  and  took  their  positions,  out  of 
cannon-shot  range,  of  course,  in  the  most  deliberate 
manner.  The  uniforms  of  the  army  were  brand- 
new,  and  it  was  the  fashion  to  fight  in  one's  best 
in  those  days.  They  presented  a  magnificent  spec 
tacle. 

Presently  the  Duke,  his  staff,  the  gunners  and 
the  others  who  were  on  the  top  of  the  ridge  and 
watching,  saw  a  body  of  horsemen  gallop  rapidly 
along  the  French  lines.  One  gray-coated  figure 
riding  a  white  horse  was  in  advance  of  the  rest. 
The  cheers,  the  almost  delirious  shouts  and  cries, 
told  the  watchers  that  it  was  the  Emperor.  It  was 
his  last  grand  review,  his  last  moment  of  triumph. 

It  was  after  one  o'clock  before  the  actual  battle 
began.  More  books  have  been  written  about  that 
battle  than  any  other  that  was  ever  fought.  One 
is  tempted  to  say,  almost  than  all  others  that  were 
ever  fought.  And  the  closest  reasoners  arrive  at 


342    THE  EAGLE  OF  THE  EMPIRE 

different  conclusions  and  disagree  as  to  many  vital 
and  important  details.  The  Duke  of  Wellington 
himself  left  two  accounts,  one  in  his  dispatches  and 
one  in  notes  written  long  afterward,  which  were  ir 
reconcilable,  but  some  things  are  certain,  upon  some 
things  all  historians  are  agreed. 

The  battle  began  with  an  attack  on  the  Hougo- 
mont  Chateau  and  the  conflict  actually  raged  around 
that  chateau  for  over  six  hours,  or  until  the  French 
were  in  retreat.  Macdonell,  Home  and  Saltoun, 
Scotsmen  all,  with  their  regiments  of  the  House 
hold  Guard,  held  that  chateau,  although  it  was  as 
sailed  over  and  over  again,  finally,  by  the  whole 
of  Reille's  corps.  They  held  that  chateau,  although 
it  burned  over  their  heads,  although  the  French 
actually  broke  into  it  on  occasion.  They  held  it, 
although  every  other  man  in  it  was  shot  down  and 
scarcely  a  survivor  was  without  a  wound.  It  was 
assaulted  with  a  fury  and  a  resolution  which  was 
only  matched  by  the  fury  and  resolution  of  its  de 
fense.  Why  it  was  not  battered  to  pieces  with 
artillery  no  one  knows.  At  any  rate,  it  occupied 
practically  the  whole  of  Reille's  corps  during  the 
whole  long  afternoon  of  fighting. 

The  space  between  Hougomont  and  La  Haye 
Sainte  was  about  a  thousand  yards.  La  Haye 
Sainte  was  assaulted  also  but,  to  anticipate  events, 
it  held  out  until  about  five  o'clock  in  the  evening, 
when,  after  another  wonderful  defense,  it  was  car 
ried.  The  French  established  themselves  in  it 
eighty  yards  from  Wellington's  line. 


CHAPTER  XXX 

WATERLOO — THE  CHARGE  OF  D'ERLON 

MEANWHILE  the  French  had  not  confined  their 
efforts  to  the  isolated  forts,  if  they  may  be  so  called, 
on  Wellington's  center  and  left  center.  After  a  tre 
mendous  artillery  duel  d'Erlon's  men  had  been 
formed  up  for  that  massed  attack  for  which  the  Em 
peror  was  famous,  and  with  which  it  was  expected 
the  English  line  would  be  pierced  and  the  issue 
decided.  The  Emperor,  as  has  been  noted,  had  in 
tended  the  attack  on  Hougomont  as  a  mere  feint, 
hoping  to  induce  the  Duke  of  Wellington  to  rein 
force  his  threatened  right  and  thereby  to  weaken 
his  left  center.  It  was  no  part  of  the  Emperor's 
plan  that  an  attempt  to  capture  Hougomont  should 
become  the  main  battle  on  his  own  left  that  it  had, 
nor  could  he  be  sure  that  even  the  tremendous  at 
tack  upon  it  had  produced  the  effect  at  which  he 
aimed.  Nevertheless,  the  movement  of  d'Erlon  had 
to  be  tried. 

It  must  be  remembered  that  Napoleon  had  never 
passed  through  the  intermediate  army  grades.  He 
had  been  jumped  from  a  regimental  officer  to  a 
General.  He  had  never  handled  a  regiment,  a  bri 
gade,  a  division,  a  corps — only  an  army,  or  armies. 
Perhaps  that  was  one  reason  why  he  was  accus- 

343 


344    THE  EAGLE  OF  THE  EMPIRE 

tomed  to  leaving  details  and  the  execution  of  his 
plans  to  subordinates.  He  was  the  greatest  of  strate 
gists  and  the  ablest  of  tacticians,  but  minor  tactics 
did  not  interest  him,  and  the  arrangement  of  this 
great  assault  he  left  to  the  corps  and  its  commander. 

Giving  orders  to  Ney  and  d'Erlon,  therefore,  the 
Emperor  at  last  launched  his  grand  attack.  One 
hundred  and  twenty  guns  were  concentrated  on  that 
part  of  the  English  left  beyond  the  westernmost 
of  the  two  outlying  positions,  through  which  it  was 
determined  to  force  a  way.  Under  cover  of  the 
smoke,  which  all  day  hung  thick  and  heavy  in  the 
valley  and  clung  to  the  ridges,  d'Erlon's  splendid 
corps,  which  had  been  so  wasted  between  Quatre 
Bras  and  Ligny,  and  which  was  burning  to  achieve 
something,  was  formed  in  four  huge  parallel  close- 
ranked  columns,  slightly  echeloned  under  Donze- 
lot,  Marcognet,  Durutte  and  Allix.  With  greatly 
mistaken  judgment,  these  four  columns  were 
crowded  close  together.  The  disposition  was  a  very 
bad  one.  In  the  first  place,  their  freedom  of  move 
ment  was  so  impaired  by  lack  of  proper  distance 
as  to  render  deployment  almost  impossible.  Unless 
the  columns  could  preserve  their  solid  formation 
until  the  very  point  of  contact,  the  charge  would 
be  a  fruitless  one.  In  the  second  place,  they  made 
an  enormous  target  impossible  to  miss.  The  attack 
was  supported  by  light  batteries  of  artillery  and 
the  cavalry  in  the  flanks. 

Other  things  being  equal,  the  quality  of  soldiers 
being  the  same,  the  column  is  at  an  obvious  disad 
vantage  when  attacking  the  line.  It  was  so  in  this 


THE  LAST  TRY  345 

instance.  Although  it  was  magnificently  led  by 
Ney  and  d'Erlon  in  person,  and  although  it  com 
prised  troops  of  the  highest  order,  the  division  com 
manders  being  men  of  superb  courage  and  resolu 
tion,  no  valor,  no  determination  could  make  up  for 
these  disadvantages.  The  tremendous  artillery-fire 
of  the  French,  which  did  great  execution  among  the 
English,  kept  them  down  until  the  dark  columns  of 
infantry  mounting  the  ridge  got  in  the  way  of  the 
French  guns  which,  of  course,  ceased  to  fire. 

The  drums  were  rolling  madly,  the  Frenchmen 
were  cheering  loudly  when  the  ridge  was  suddenly 
covered  with  long  red  lines.  There  were  not  many 
blue-coated  allies  left.  Many  of  them  had  already 
laid  down  their  lives;  of  the  survivors  more  were 
exhausted  by  the  fierce  battling  of  the  preceding 
days  when  the  Belgians  had  nobly  sustained  the 
fighting  traditions  of  a  race  to  which  nearly  two 
thousand  years  before  Cffisar  himself  had  borne  tes 
timony.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  most  of  the  allies  were 
moved  to  the  rear.  They  did  not  leave  the  field. 
They  were  formed  up  again  back  of  the  battle  line 
to  constitute  the  reserve.  The  English  did  not  in 
tend  to  flee  either.  They  were  not  accustomed  to 
it  and  they  saw  no  reason  for  doing  it  now. 

Wellington  moved  the  heavy  cavalry  over  to  sup 
port  the  threatened  point  of  the  line  and  bade  his 
soldiers  restrain  their  fire.  There  was  something 
ominous  in  the  silent,  steady,  rock-like  red  wall. 
It  was  much  more  threatening  to  the  mercuric  Gal 
lic  spirit  than  the  shouting  of  the  French  was  to  the 


846    THE  EAGLE  OF  THE  EMPIRE 

unemotional  English  disposition.  Still,  they  came 
intrepidly  on. 

Meanwhile,  renewed  attacks  were  hurled  against 
the  chateau  and  the  farmhouse.  Ney  and  d'Erlon 
had  determined  to  break  the  English  line  with  the 
bayonet.  Suddenly,  when  the  French  came  within 
point-blank  range,  the  English  awoke  to  action. 
The  English  guns  hurled  shot  into  the  close-ranked 
masses,  each  discharge  doing  frightful  execution. 
Ney's  horse  was  shot  from  under  him  at  the  first 
fire.  But  the  unwounded  Marshal  scrambled  to  his 
feet  and,  mounting  another  horse,  pressed  on. 

The  slow-moving  ranks  were  nearer.  At  point- 
blank  range  the  English  infantrymen  now  opened 
fire.  Shattering  discharges  were  poured  upon  the 
French.  The  fronts  of  the  divisions  were  obliterated. 
The  men  in  advance  who  survived  would  have  given 
back,  but  the  pressure  of  the  masses  in  their  rear 
forced  them  to  go  on.  The  divisions  actually  broke 
into  a  run.  Again  and  again  the  British  battalions 
spoke,  the  black  muskets  in  the  hands  of  the  red 
coats  were  tipped  with  redder  flame.  It  was  not  in 
human  flesh  and  blood  to  sustain  very  long  such 
a  fire. 

It  was  a  magnificent  charge,  gloriously  deliv 
ered,  and  such  was  its  momentum  that  it  almost 
came  in  touch  with  the  English  line.  It  did  not 
quite.  That  momentum  was  spent  at  last.  The 
French  deployed  as  well  as  they  could  in  the  crowded 
space  and  at  half-pistol-shot  distance  began  to  re 
turn  the  English  fire.  The  French  guns  joined 
in  the  infernal  tumult.  The  advance  had  been 


THE  LAST  TRY 

stopped,  but  it  had  not  been  driven  back.  The 
French  cavalry  were  now  coming  up.  Before  they 
arrived  that  issue  had  to  be  decided.  The  critical 
moment  was  at  hand,  and  Wellington's  superb  judg 
ment  determined  the  action.  He  let  loose  on  them 
the  heavy  cavalry,  led  by  the  Scots  Grays  on  their 
big  horses.  As  the  ranks  of  the  infantry  opened 
to  give  them  room,  the  men  of  the  Ninety-second 
Highlanders,  mad  with  the  enthusiasm  of  the  mo 
ment,  caught  the  stirrup-straps  of  the  Horse  and, 
half  running,  half  dragged,  joined  in  the  charge. 

The  splendid  body  of  heavy  cavalry  fell  on  the 
flank  of  the  halted  columns.  There  was  no  time 
for  the  French  to  form  a  square.  Nay  more,  there 
was  no  room  for  them  to  form  a  square.  In  an 
instant,  however,  they  faced  about  and  delivered  a 
volley  which  did  great  execution,  but  nothing  could 
stop  the  maddened  rush  of  the  gigantic  horsemen. 
Back  on  the  heights  of  Rossomme  Napoleon, 
aroused  from  his  lethargy  at  last,  stared  at  the 
great  attack. 

"Mon  Dieu!"  he  exclaimed  as  he  saw  the  tremen 
dous  onfall  of  the  cavalrymen  upon  his  helpless 
infantry,  "how  terrible  are  those  gray  horsemen!" 

Yes,  they  were  more  terrible  to  the  men  at  the 
point  of  contact  than  they  were  to  those  back  of 
La  Belle  Alliance.  No  infantry  that  ever  lived 
in  the  position  in  which  the  French  found  them 
selves  could  have  stood  up  against  such  a  charge 
as  that.  Trampling,  hacking,  slashing,  thrusting, 
the  horses  biting  and  fighting  like  the  men,  the 
heavy  cavalry  broke  up  two  of  the  columns.  The 


348    THE  EAGLE  OF  THE  EMPIRE 

second  and  third  began  to  retreat  under  an  awful 
fire.  But  the  dash  of  the  British  troopers  was  spent. 
They  had  become  separated,  disorganized.  They 
had  lost  coherence.  The  French  cavalry  now  ar 
rived  on  the  scene.  Admirably  handled,  they  were 
thrown  on  the  scattered  English.  There  was  noth 
ing  for  the  latter  to  do  but  retire.  Retire  they  did, 
having  accomplished  all  that  anyone  could  expect 
of  cavalry,  fighting  every  step  of  the  way.  Just 
as  soon  as  they  opened  the  fronts  of  the  regiments 
in  line,  the  infantry  and  artillery  began  again,  and 
then  the  French  cavalry  got  its  punishment  in  its 
turn. 

It  takes  but  moments  to  tell  of  this  charge  and, 
indeed,  in  the  battlefield  it  seemed  but  a  few  mo 
ments.  But  the  French  did  not  give  way  until 
after  long  hard  fighting.  From  the  beginning  of 
the  preliminary  artillery-duel  to  the  repulse  of  the 
charge  an  hour  and  a  half  elapsed.  Indeed,  they 
did  not  give  way  altogether  either,  for  Donzelot 
and  Allix,  who  commanded  the  left  divisions,  were 
the  men  who  finally  succeeded  in  capturing  La  Haye 
Sainte.  And  both  sides  suffered  furiously  before 
the  French  gave  back. 

There  was  plenty  of  fight  left  in  the  French  yet. 
Ney,  whatever  his  strategy  and  tactics,  showed  him 
self  as  of  yore  the  bravest  of  the  brave.  It  is  quite 
safe  to  say  that  the  hero  of  the  retreat  from  Rus 
sia,  the  last  of  the  Grand  Army,  the  star  of  many 
a  hotly  contested  battle,  surpassed  even  his  own 
glorious  record  for  personal  courage  on  that  day. 
Maddened  by  the  repulse,  he  gathered  up  all  the 


THE  LAST  TRY  349 

cavalry,  twelve  thousand  in  number,  and  with  Kel- 
lerman,  greatest  of  cavalrymen,  to  second  him  and 
with  division  leaders  like  Milhaud  and  Maurice,  he 
hurled  himself  upon  the  English  line  between 
.Hougomont  and  La  Haye  Sainte.  But  the  English 
made  no  tactical  mistakes  like  that  of  Ney  and 
d'Erlon.  The  artillerists  stood  to  their  guns  until 
the  torrent  of  French  horsemen  was  about  to  break 
upon  them,  then  they  ran  back  to  the  safety  of  the 
nearest  English  square. 

The  English  had  been  put  in  such  formation  that 
the  squares  lay  checkerwise.  Each  side  was  four 
men  deep.  The  front  rank  knelt,  the  second  rank 
bent  over  at  a  charge  bayonets,  the  third  and  the 
fourth  ranks  stood  erect  and  fired.  The  French 
horsemen  might  have  endured  the  tempest  of  bul 
lets  but  they  could  not  ride  down  the  chevaux  de 
jrise,  the  fringe  of  steel.  They  tried  it.  No  one 
could  find  fault  with  that  army.  It  was  doing  its 
best;  it  was  fighting  and  dying  for  its  Emperor. 
Over  and  over  they  sought  to  break  those  stubborn 
British  squares.  One  or  two  of  them  were  actually 
penetrated,  but  unavailingly. 

Men  mad  with  battle-lust  threw  themselves  and 
their  horses  upon  the  bayonets.  The  guns  were 
captured  and  recaptured.  The  horsemen  overran 
the  ridge,  they  got  behind  the  squares,  they  counter 
charged  over  their  own  tracks,  they  rode  until  the 
breasts  of  the  horses  touched  the  guns.  They  fired 
pistols  in  the  face  of  the  English.  One  such  charge 
is  enough  to  immortalize  its  makers,  and  during 
that  afternoon  they  made  twelve! 


350    THE  EAGLE  OF  THE  EMPIRE 

Ney,  raging  over  the  field,  had  five  horses  killed 
under  him.  The  British  suffered  horribly.  If  the 
horsemen  did  draw  off  to  take  breath,  and  reform 
for  another  effort,  the  French  batteries,  the  Eng 
lish  squares  presenting  easy  targets,  sent  ball  after 
ball  through  them.  And  nobody  stopped  fighting 
to  watch  the  cavalry.  Far  and  wide  the  battle 
raged.  Toward  the  close  of  the  day  some  of  the 
English  squares  had  become  so  torn  to  pieces  that 
regiments,  brigades  and  divisions  had  to  be  com 
bined  to  keep  from  being  overwhelmed. 

Still  the  fight  raged  around  Hougomont.  Now, 
from  a  source  of  strength,  La  Haye  Sainte  had  be 
come  a  menace.  There  the  English  attacked  and 
the  French  held.  Off  to  the  northeast  the  country 
was  black  with  advancing  masses  of  men.  No,  it 
was  not  Grouchy  and  his  thirty-five  thousand  who, 
if  they  had  been  there  at  the  beginning,  might  have 
decided  the  day.  It  was  the  Prussians. 

They,  at  least,  had  marched  to  the  sound  of  the 
cannon.  Grouchy  was  off  at  Wavre.  He  at  last 
got  in  touch  with  one  of  Bliicher's  rear  corps  and 
he  was  fighting  a  smart  little  battle  ten  miles  from 
the  place  where  the  main  issue  was  to  be  decided. 
As  a  diversion,  his  efforts  were  negligible,  for  with 
out  that  corps  the  allies  outnumbered  the  French 
two  to  one. 

Telling  the  troops  that  the  oncoming  soldiers 
were  their  comrades  of  Grouchy's  command  who 
would  decide  the  battle,  Napoleon  detached  the  gal 
lant  Lobau,  who  had  stood  like  a  stone  wall  at 
Aspern,  with  the  Young  Guard  to  seize  the  village 


THE  LAST  TRY  351 

of  Planchenoit  and  to  hold  the  Prussians  back,  for 
if  they  broke  in  the  end  would  be  as  certain  as  it 
was  swift.  And  well  did  Lobau  with  the  Young 
Guard  perform  that  task.  Biilow,  commanding  the 
leading  corps,  hurled  himself  again  and  again  upon 
the  French  line.  His  heavy  columns  fared  exactly 
as  the  French  columns  had  fared  when  they  as 
saulted  the  English.  But  it  was  not  within  the 
power  of  ten  thousand  men  to  hold  off  thirty  thou 
sand  forever,  and  there  were  soon  that  number  of 
Prussians  at  the  point  of  contact.  Frantic  mes 
sages  from  Lobau  caused  the  Emperor  to  send  one 
of  the  divisions  of  the  Old  Guard,  the  last  reserve, 
to  his  support. 

It  was  now  after  six  o'clock,  the  declining  sun  was 
already  low  on  the  horizon,  the  long  June  day  was 
drawing  to  a  close.  The  main  force  of  the  Prus 
sians  had  not  yet  come  up  to  the  hill  and  ridge  of 
Mont  St.  Jean.  Wellington,  in  great  anxiety,  was 
clinging  desperately  to  the  ridge  with  his  shattered 
lines  wondering  how  long  he  could  hold  them, 
whether  he  could  sustain  another  of  those  awful 
attacks.  His  reserves,  except  two  divisions  of  light 
cavalry,  Vivian's  and  Vandeleur's,  and  Maitland's 
and  Adams'  brigades  headed  by  Colborne's  famous 
Fifty-second  Foot,  among  his  troops  the  de  luxe 
veterans  of  the  Peninsula,  had  all  been  expended. 

Lobau  was  still  holding  back  the  Prussians  by  the 
most  prodigious  and  astounding  efforts.  If  Napo 
leon  succeeded  in  his  last  titanic  effort  to  break 
that  English  line,  Bliicher  would  be  too  late.  Un 
less  night  or  Bliicher  came  quickly,  if  Napoleon 


352    THE  EAGLE  OF  THE  EMPIRE 

made  that  attack  and  it  was  not  driven  back,  victory 
in  this  struggle  of  the  war  gods  would  finally  go  to 
the  French. 

Hougomont  still  held  out.  The  stubborn  defense 
of  it  was  Wellington's  salvation.  While  it  stood 
his  right  was  more  or  less  protected.  But  La  Haye 
Sainte  offered  a  convenient  point  of  attack  upon 
him.  If  Napoleon  brought  up  his  remaining  troops 
behind  it  they  would  only  have  a  short  distance  to 
go  before  they  were  at  death's  grapple  hand  to  hand 
with  the  shattered,  exhausted,  but  indomitable  de 
fenders  of  the  ridge. 


CHAPTER   XXXI 

WATERLOO — THE  LAST  OF  THE  GUARD 

LONG  and  earnestly,  one  from  the  heights  of  Mont 
St.  Jean,  the  other  from  those  of  Rossomme,  the 
two  great  Captains  scanned  the  opposing  line.  Na 
poleon  seemed  to  have  recovered  from  his  indis 
position.  Indeed,  he  had  undergone  frightful  fa 
tigues  which  would  have  been  incredible  if  sustained 
by  a  younger  man,  and  which  would  have  been  im 
possible  to  any  other  man  than  he.  To  add  to  his 
fatigue,  he  was  ill.  He  could  not  sleep  and  the 
nature  of  his  illness  was  such  that  it  was  agony 
for  .him  to  mount  a  horse.  This  condition  had  been 
aggravated  by  the  awful  exertion,  physical  and  men 
tal,  he  had  made  and  the  strain  of  that  long  after 
noon  of  desperate  fighting.  Nor  had  he  eaten 
anything  the  livelong  day.  Yet  at  about  half  after 
six  that  night  he  did  get  into  the  saddle  again.  Con 
quering  his  anguish,  he  rode  down  to  the  fifteen 
battalions  of  the  Guard  still  held  in  reserve  at  La 
Belle  Alliance,  all  that  was  left  intact  of  that  proud 
and  gallant  army. 

"My  children,"  he  said  hoarsely  in  last  appeal,  "I 
must  sleep  in  Brussels  to-night.  There  is  the  en 
emy.  Go  and  break  the  English  line  for  me." 

Cambronne,  to  whom  nature  and  education  alike 
353 


had  denied  every  attribute  of  grace  or  greatness 
except  unbounded  devotion  and  stubborn  courage, 
mustered  the  Guard.  Ney,  le  terrible  Rougeaud,  the 
soldiers'  idol,  his  torn  uniform  covered  with  dust, 
one  of  his  epaulets  slashed  from  his  shoulder,  his  coat 
open,  his  shirt  likewise,  his  bared  breast  black  with 
powder,  his  face  red-streaked  with  blood,  for  many 
bullets  had  grazed  him,  his  hair  matted  with  sweat 
— the  weather  had  grown  frightfully  hot,  the  air  was 
terribly  humid — his  eyes  blazing,  flecks  of  foam 
about  his  mouth,  placed  himself  in  the  lead.  Every 
staff  officer  left  joined  the  great  Marshal. 

With  the  brass  drums  beating  "La  Grenadiere," 
that  famous  grenadier  quick-step,  the  great  Guard 
moved  out.  Here,  again,  in  the  excitement  of  the 
conflict,  an  opportunity  was  overlooked.  They  could 
have  gone  up  in  rear  of  La  Haye  Sainte  with  practi 
cally  no  danger,  but  they  went  straight  out  into  the 
open,  between  farm  and  chateau.  Up  the  road, 
over  the  fields  of  bloody  grain,  through  the  torn 
hedges,  trampling  over  the  bodies  of  their  comrades, 
the  last  hope  advanced  to  meet  the  enemy. 

All  over  the  field  the  tide  of  battle  ebbed  and 
flowed.  The  armies  came  together  for  the  last  try. 
Off  to  the  right  Lobau  still  held  his  appointed  sta 
tion,  but  now  the  Prussians  in  great  masses  were 
swarming  on  the  field  about  Planchenoit.  Division 
after  division,  avoiding  Lobau  meanwhile,  mounted 
the  ridge  to  join  the  English  line.  It  had  almost 
been  broken  by  d'Erlon  at  La  Haye  Sainte.  Mouf- 
fling,  Wellington's  Prussian  aide,  had  galloped  over 
to  Ziethen  in  command  of  the  advance  with  the 


THE  LAST  TRY  355 

news  that  unless  the  English  were  reinforced  heav 
ily  at  once  their  line  would  be  pierced  and  they 
would  be  routed.  On  to  the  field  opposite  La  Haye 
Sainte  came  the  Prussians.  Still  raged  the  battle 
around  Hougomont  and  the  English  right,  but  the 
eyes  of  every  spectator  not  engaged  in  fighting  for 
his  life  were  concentrated  on  the  advance  of  the 
Guard. 

Napoleon  had  ridden  down  from  Rossomme  to  La 
Belle  Alliance.  He  sat  his  horse  within  easy  can 
non-shot  of  the  English  as  the  devoted  Guard  passed 
by  in  its  last  review.  His  physical  pain  was  forgot 
in  the  great  anxiety  with  which  he  watched  them. 
The  battle  was  practically  lost.  This  was  the  last 
desperate  throw  of  the  gambler,  the  last  stake  he 
could  place  upon  the  board.  He  knew  it,  every 
officer  knew  it,  perhaps  even  the  more  experienced 
grenadiers  like  old  Bullet-Stopper  of  the  Guard 
knew  it.  That  did  not  matter  to  them.  They  were 
his  men  and  at  his  word,  for  him,  they  were  going 
forward  to  conquer  or  die. 

Tramp,  tramp,  tramp,  keeping  time  to  the  long 
continuous  rolling  of  the  drums  whose  notes  were 
heard  even  above  the  roar  of  the  cannon  and  the 
tumult  of  the  battle,  the  Guard,  from  whose  lips 
came  one  continuous  cry  of  "Vive  I'Empereur!" 
marched  forward.  Covered  as  usual  by  the  fire  of 
one  of  those  great  batteries  of  concentrated  guns  so 
conspicuous  in  Napoleonic  tactics,  through  the 
smoke  and  the  mist  and  the  shadows  of  the  eve 
ning,  they  passed  on.  Napoleon  himself  with  three 


356    THE  EAGLE  OF  THE  EMPIRE 

battalions  in  reserve  followed  a  little  distance  be^ 
hind  them. 

Now  they  were  mounting  the  hill,  now  they  were 
abreast  of  La  Haye  Sainte;  now  the  ridge  in  front 
of  them  was  topped  with  English.  Away  off  could 
be  heard  the  thunder  of  the  oncoming  Prussian 
horsemen,  the  roar  of  the  Prussian  guns.  Back 
of  the  ridge  the  brigades  of  light  cavalry  stood 
ready.  The  infantry  reserve  with  brave  Colborne 
and  the  Fifty-second,  thirteen  hundred  strong,  in  the 
lead,  were  quivering  with  excitement.  Even  the 
stolid  British  phlegm  had  vanished.  This  was  the 
last  supreme  moment.  Throbbed  wildly  the  usually 
steady  hearts  of  the  cool  islanders.  If  they  could 
stop  this  grand  advance  the  battle  would  be  gained. 
The  hill  would  be  held.  Could  they  do  it?  And 
if  not ! 

Out  of  the  smoke  and  mist  opposite  the  English 
soldiers  of  the  Royal  Guard  came  their  Imperial 
enemies.  The  waiting  British  saw  the  black  bear 
skins  of  the  tall  Guard,  the  imperial  insignia  on 
cross-belts  and  uniforms.  They  were  so  near  that 
they  could  see  the  grim  faces  of  the  old  soldiers, 
their  mustaches  working,  their  lips  drawn  back  over 
their  teeth,  snarling,  sputtering  like  savage  beasts. 
Here  and  there  mouths  were  tight  shut  in  a  firm 
line.  Here  and  there  men  came  silently,  but  mostly 
they  were  yelling.  And  they  came  up,  arms 
aport,  after  the  precept  and  example  of  Dorsenne,  le 
beau  Dorsenne,  alas,  no  longer  with  them,  to  try 
conclusions  for  the  last  time  with  the  soldiers'  white 


THE  LAST  TRY  357 

weapon,  the  bayonet,  cold  steel!  Would  the  Eng 
lish  wait  for  that?  They  would  not. 

"Fire!"  cried  an  English  voice  just  when  the  sus 
pense  had  become  unbearable. 

The  heavens  were  shattered  by  the  discharge.  Ney 
pitched  from  his  horse,  the  sixth  that  day  to  be 
shot  under  him.  He  was  up  in  a  moment,  his  sword 
out.  He  advanced  on  foot  at  the  head  of  the  Guard. 
It  was  his  last  charge.  He  was  to  face  muskets 
again,  but  in  Paris,  in  the  hands  of  a  firing-squad, 
with  his  back  to  the  wall.  He  was  not  given  the 
coveted  privilege  of  dying  on  that  stricken  field, 
though  he  sought  for  it  wildly  everywhere,  but  when 
he  did  die  it  was  as  he  had  lived,  undaunted.  Now, 
his  great  voice  uplifted,  he  led  forward  the  devoted 
and  immortal  band.  His  sword  was  shot  out  of  his 
hand.  Seizing  a  gun  and  a  bayonet  from  a  falling 
grenadier,  he  fought  in  the  ranks  as  in  Russia. 

Again,  the  tactics  were  faulty,  as  d'Erlon's  men 
the  Guard  came  in  solid  columns.  Right  in  front 
of  the  rapid-firing  English,  the  muskets  and  cannon 
in  one  continuous  roar  now,  they  sought  to  deploy 
and  return  that  terrible  withering  fire.  The  Prus 
sian  infantry,  panting  like  dogs,  now  gained  the 
crest  of  the  ridge  and,  animated  by  more  than  hu 
man  hatred,  fell  into  disorderly  but  determined  lines 
and  opened  fire.  Harsh  German  oaths  and  excla 
mations  mingled  with  hearty  English  curses  and 
cheers.  The  Guard  was  firing  rapidly  now, 
straight  into  the  faces  of  the  English.  And  still  the 
columns  came  on.  Like  a  great  wave  which  rushes 
forward  at  first  swiftly  and  then  goes  slower  and 


358    THE  EAGLE  OF  THE  EMPIRE 

slower  and  slower  as  it  rolls  up  the  beach  it  ad 
vanced.  By  and  by  it  stopped.  The  end  was  at 
hand.  With  bent  heads  the  men  stood  and  took 
the  hail  of  lead  and  iron. 

"Come!"  said  Ney,  frantic  with  battle  fever. 
"Come!  .See  how  a  Marshal  of  France  can  die." 

Now  was  the  crucial  moment.  The  Iron  Duke 
saw  it.  The  two  armies  were  face  to  face  firing  into 
each  other.  To  which  side  would  the  victory 
incline?  He  spoke  to  Maitland,  to  Adams,  to  Col- 
borne.  That  gallant  soldier  threw  his  men  on  the 
exposed  flank  of  the  column  which  had  obliqued, 
bent  to  the  right.  Before  they  could  face  about 
out  of  the  smoke  came  the  yelling  English!  They 
found  the  men  on  the  flank  of  the  column  the  next 
morning  just  where  it  had  stood  lying  in  ordered 
ranks  dead. 

Still  they  did  not  give  back.  Vivian  and  Vande- 
leur,  daring  light  horsemen,  were  now  hurled  on 
the  devoted  division.  At  it  they  ran.  On  it  they 
fell.  Still  it  stood.  It  was  incredible.  It  was  al 
most  surrounded  now.  The  attack  had  failed.  To 
advance  was  impossible,  to  retreat  was  dishonor. 
They  would  stand!  Their  case  was  hopeless.  Ap 
peals  were  made  for  the  survivors  to  lay  down  their 
arms  and  surrender.  Into  the  faces  of  the  assail 
ants  vulgar  but  heroic  Cambronne  hurled  a  dis 
gusting  but  graphic  word.  No,  nobody  said  so,  but 
the  Guard  would  not  surrender.  It  would  die. 

Back  of  his  Guard,  the  Emperor,  having  stopped 
not  far  from  the  chateau,  watched  them  die.  He 
was  paler  than  ever,  sweat  poured  from  his  face, 


THE  LAST  TRY  359 

his  eyes  and  lips  twitched  nervously  and  spasms 
of  physical  pain  added  their  torture  to  the  mental 
agony  of  the  moment.  He  muttered  again  and 
again : 

"Mon  Dieu!    Mais  its  sont  meles  ensemble" 

Now  the  Prussian  horsemen,  the  Death-head  Hus 
sars,  added  their  weight  to  Vandeleur's  and  Vivian's 
swordsmen  and  lancers.  Other  regiments  supple 
mented  the  withering  fire  of  the  advancing  Fifty- 
second  and  the  reserve  brigades.  Now,  at  last,  the 
Guard  began  to  give  back.  Slowly,  reluctantly, 
clinging  to  their  positions,  fighting,  firing,  savage, 
mad — they  began  to  give  way. 

"Tout  est  perdu,"  whispered  Napoleon. 

"The  Guard  retreats!"  cried  someone  near  the 
Emperor. 

"La  Garde  recule!"  rose  here  and  there  from  the 
battlefield.  "La  Garde  recule!"  Men  caught  up 
the  cry  in  wonder  and  despair.  Could  it  be  true? 
Yes.  Back  they  came  out  of  the  smoke.  Now  was 
the  supreme  opportunity  for  the  allies.  The  Duke, 
recklessly  exposing  himself  on  the  crest  of  the  hill, 
bullets  flying  about  him,  as  they  flew  about  Napo 
leon,  yet  leading  apparently  a  charmed  life,  closed 
his  field-glass  and  turned  to  the  red  line  that  had 
made  good  its  defense. 

"Up ! "  he  cried,  waving  his  hand  and  not  finishing 
his  sentence. 

They  needed  no  other  signal.  Their  time  to  at 
tack  had  come.  Down  the  hill  they  rushed,  yelling, 
followed  by  Belgians,  Netherlanders,  and  all  the 
rest,  pressing  hard  upon  their  heels.  La  Haye  Sainte 


360    THE  EAGLE  OF  THE  EMPIRE 

was  recaptured  in  the  twinkling  of  an  eye.  The 
shattered  broken  remains  of  the  Guard  were  driven 
in  headlong  rout.  The  assailers  of  Hougomont  were 
themselves  assaulted.  At  last  numbers  had  over 
whelmed  Lobau.  The  survivors  of  an  army  of  a 
hundred  and  thirty  thousand  flushed  with  victory 
fell  on  the  survivors  of  an  army  of  seventy  thousand 
already  defeated. 

At  half-past  seven  the  battle  was  lost.  At  eight 
the  withdrawal  became  a  retreat,  the  retreat  a  rout. 
At  set  of  sun  lost  was  the  Emperor,  lost  was  the 
Empire.  Ended  was  the  age-long  struggle  which 
had  begun  with  the  fall  of  the  Bastile  more  than 
a  score  of  years  before.  Once  again  from  France, 
with  the  downfall  of  Napoleon,  had  been  snatched 
the  hegemony  of  the  world. 

There  was  no  reserve.  There  was  nothing  to 
cover  a  retreat.  Someone  raised  the  wild  cry  not 
often  heard  on  battlefields  overlooked  by  Napoleon, 
and  it  was  echoed  everywhere: 

"Sauve  qui  pent" 

The  army  as  an  army  was  gone.  Thousands  of 
men  in  mad  terror  fled  in  every  direction.  Still, 
there  were  left  a  few  battalions  of  the  Guard  which 
had  not  been  in  action.  They  formed  three  squares 
to  receive  the  English  and  Prussians.  Into  the 
nearest  square  Napoleon,  bewildered,  overwhelmed, 
stricken  by  the  catastrophe,  was  led  on  his  horse. 
His  sword  was  out.  He  would  fain  have  died  on 
that  field.  Doubtless,  many  a  bullet  marked  him, 
but  none  struck  him.  For  a  little  while  these  squares 
of  the  Guard,  Napoleon  in  the  center  one,  another 


THE  LAST  TRY  361 

square  on  either  side  of  the  center  one,  stayed  the 
British  and  Prussian  advance,  but  it  was  not  to  be. 
"The  stars  in  their  courses  fought  against  Sisera!" 
The  Emperor  gave  no  order.  Bertrand  and  Soult 
turned  his  horse  about  and  the  squares  retreated. 

It  was  night.  They  were  the  sole  organized  body 
left.  Well,  they  upheld  their  ancient  fame  and 
glorious  reputation  and  untarnished  honor.  Through 
the  calm  and  moonlit  night  pursuers  and  pursued 
could  hear  the  rolling  of  the  brass  drums  far  and 
wide  over  the  countryside  as  the  Guard  marched 
away  from  that  field  back  to  stricken  France,  to  that 
famous  grenadier  march,  "La  Grenadiere." 

Again  and  again  they  stopped  to  beat  off  the 
furious  attack  of  the  cavalry.  Again  and  again  the 
Prussian  pursuers  hurled  themselves  unavailingly 
on  quadrangles  of  steel,  worked  up  to  a  terrible  pitch 
of  excitement  by  the  possibility  that  they  might 
seize  the  Emperor  at  whose  behest  and  for  whose 
purpose  fifty  thousand  men  lay  dead  or  wounded 
on  that  fatal  hill,  in  that  dreadful  valley.  Happy 
the  fate  of  those  who  were  dead — horrible  the  con 
dition  of  those  who  were  wounded.  English,  Prus 
sians,  Germans,  Bavarians,  Hollanders,  French, 
trampled  together  in  indistinguishable  masses. 
Horses,  guns,  weapons,  equipment — everything  in 
hopeless  confusion.  Every  horror,  every  anguish, 
every  agony  was  there — incense  burned  about  the 
altar  of  one  devouring  ambition. 


CHAPTER   XXXII 

AT  LAST   THE   EAGLE  AND  THE    WOMAN 

NEAREST  the  crest  of  the  hill  immortalized  by  the 
great  conflict,  in  advance  of  but  in  touch  with  the 
regular  dead  lines  of  the  Guard,  a  little  group,  friend 
and  foe,  lay  intermingled.  There  was  a  young  offi 
cer  of  the  Fifty-second  infantry,  one  of  Colborne's. 
He  was  conscious  but  suffering  frightfully  from 
mortal  wounds.  One  side  of  his  face  where  he  had 
been  thrown  into  the  mud  was  covered  with  a  red 
compound  of  earth  and  blood;  his  bright  head  was 
dabbled  with  the  same  hideous  mixture.  Blood 
frothed  out  of  his  mouth  as  he  breathed.  He  mur 
mured  from  time  to  time  a  woman's  name. 
"Water,"  was  sometimes  the  sputtering  syllable  that 
came  from  him. 

His  left  hand  clutched  uneasily  at  his  breast, 
where  his  torn  uniform  showed  a  gaping  wound. 
But  his  right  hand  was  still.  The  arm  was  broken, 
paralyzed,  but  the  fingers  of  his  right  hand  were 
tightly  closed  around  a  broken  blue  staff  and  next 
to  his  cheek,  the  blood-stained  one,  and  cold  against 
it,  was  a  French  Eagle.  He  had  seized  that  staff  in 
the  heat  of  battle  and  in  the  article  of  death  he 
held  it. 

At  the  feet  of  the  English  officer  lay  a  French 
362 


THE  LAST  TRY 

officer  wearing  the  insignia  of  a  Colonel  of  the 
Guard.  He  was  covered  with  wounds,  bayonet 
thrusts,  a  saber-slash,  and  was  delirious.  Although 
helpless,  he  was  really  in  much  better  case  than  the 
young  Englishman.  He,  too,  in  his  delirium  mut 
tered  a  woman's  name. 

They  spoke  different  tongues,  these  two.  They 
were  born  in  different  lands.  They  were  children  of 
the  same  God,  although  one  might  have  doubted  it, 
but  no  one  could  mistake  the  woman's  name.  For 
there  Frank  Yeovil  and  Jean  Marteau,  incapable  of 
doing  each  other  any  further  harm,  each  thought 
of  the  same  woman. 

Did  Laure  d'Aumenier  back  in  England  waiting 
anxiously  for  news  of  battle,  fearing  for  one  of  those 
men,  hear  those  piteous,  broken  murmurs  of  a 
woman's  name — her  own? 

Around  these  two  were  piled  the  dead.  Marteau 
had  seized  the  Eagle.  Yes,  he  and  a  few  brave 
men  had  stayed  on  the  field  when  the  great  Ney, 
raging  like  a  madman,  and  seeking  in  vain  the 
happy  fortune  of  a  bullet  or  sword-thrust,  had  been 
swept  away,  and  on  him  had  fallen  Yeovil  with 
another  group  of  resolute  English,  and  together  they 
had  fought  their  little  battle  for  the  Eagle.  And 
Marteau  had  proved  the  Englishman's  master.  He 
had  beaten  him  down.  He  had  shortened  his  sword 
to  strike  when  he  recognized  him.  Well,  the  battle 
was  over,  the  Eagle  was  lost,  the  Emperor  was  a 
fugitive,  hope  died  with  the  retreating  Guard,  the 
Empire  was  ended.  Marteau  might  have  killed 
him,  but  to  what  end? 


364    THE  EAGLE  OF  THE  EMPIRE 

"For  your  wife's  sake,"  he  cried,  lowering  his 
sword,  and  the  next  minute  he  paid  for  his  mercy, 
for  the  other  English  threw  themselves  upon  him. 

But  Frank  Yeovil  did  not  get  off  scot  free.  There 
was  one  lad  who  had  foUowed  Marteau,  who  had 
marched  with  the  Guard,  who  had  no  compunctions 
of  conscience  whatever,  and  with  his  last  pistol 
Pierre  gave  the  reeling  Englishman  the  fatal  shot. 
Yes,  Pierre  paid  too.  They  would  certainly  have 
spared  him,  since  he  was  only  a  boy,  but  maddened 
by  the  death  of  their  officer,  half  a  dozen  bayonets 
were  plunged  into  his  breast. 

Thither  the  next  day  came  Sir  Gervaise  Yeovil, 
who  had  been  with  the  Duke  at  the  Duchess  of 
Richmond's  famous  ball  in  Brussels.  Young  Frank 
had  left  that  ball  at  four  o'clock  in  the  morning, 
according  to  order,  only  to  find  that  later  orders  had 
directed  the  army  to  march  at  two  and  that  his 
baggage  had  gone.  He  had  fought  that  day  in 
pumps  and  silk  stockings  which  he  had  worn  at 
the  ball;  dabbled,  gory,  muddy,  they  were  now. 

Sir  Gervaise  Yeovil  was  an  old  friend  of  the  Duke 
of  Wellington.  The  Iron  Duke,  as  they  called  him, 
was  nevertheless  very  tender-hearted  that  morning. 
He  told  the  Baronet  that  his  son  was  somewhere 
on  the  field.  Colonel  Colborne  of  the  Fifty-second 
had  marked  him  in  the  charge,  but  that  was  all. 
Neither  Vivian  nor  Vandeleur  could  throw  any  light 
on  the  situation.  There  were  twenty  thousand  of 
the  allied  armies  on  that  field  and  thirty  thousand 
French. 

"My  God,"  said  Sir  Gervaise,  staring  along  the 


THE  LAST  TRY  365 

line  of  the  French  retreat,  "what  is  so  terrible  as  a 
defeat?" 

"Nothing,"  said  the  Duke  gravely.  Then  look 
ing  at  the  nearer  hillside  he  added  those  tremendous 
words  which  epitomized  war  in  a  way  in  which  no 
one  save  a  great  modern  captain  has  ever  epitomized 
it.  "Nothing,"  he  said  slowly,  "unless  it  be  a  vic 
tory." 

They  found  the  Guard.  That  was  easy.  There 
they  lay  in  lines  where  they  had  fallen;  the  tall 
bearskins  on  their  heads,  the  muskets  still  clasped 
in  their  hands.  There,  too,  they  found  young  Yeovil 
at  last.  They  revived  him.  Someone  sought  to  take 
the  Eagle  from  him,  but  with  a  sudden  accession 
of  strength  he  protested  against  it. 

"Father,"  he  whispered  to  the  old  man  bending 
over  him,  his  red  face  pale  and  working,  "mine." 

"True,"  said  the  Duke.  "He  captured  it.  Let 
him  keep  it." 

"0  God!"  broke  out  the  Baronet.  "Frank!  Can 
nothing  be  done?" 

"Nothing.  Stop."  His  lips  moved,  his  father  bent 
nearer.  "Laure —  '  he  whispered. 

"Yes,  yes,  what  of  her?" 

"That  Frenchman  she  loved " 

"Marteau?" 

The  young  Englishman  closed  his  eyes  in  assent. 

"He  could  have  killed  me  but  spared — for  her — 
he — is  there,"  he  faltered  presently. 

"There  is  life  in  this  Frenchman  yet,"  said  one  of 
the  surgeons,  looking  up  at  the  moment. 

"My  Lord!"  said  old  Sir  Gervaise  Yeovil,  start- 


ing  up,  choking  down  a  sob  and  endeavoring  to  keep 
his  voice  steady.  "My  boy  yonder " 

"Yes,"  said  the  Duke,  "a  brave  lad." 

"He's It  is  all  up  with  him.  You  will  let 

me  take  him  back  to  England,  and — the  French 
man  and  the  Eagle?" 

"Certainly.  I  wish  to  God  it  had  never  happened, 
Yeovil,"  went  on  the  soldier.  "But  it  had  to  be. 
Bonaparte  had  to  be  put  down,  the  world  freed. 
And  somebody  had  to  pay." 

"I  thank  God,"  said  the  old  man,  "that  my  boy 
dies  for  his  King  and  his  country  and  for  human 
liberty." 

"Nor  shall  he  die  in  vain,"  said  the  soldier. 

Frank  Yeovil  died  on  the  vessel  Sir  Gervaise  char 
tered  to  carry  him  and  Marteau  and  some  other 
wounded  officers  of  his  acquaintance  back  to  Eng 
land.  They  did  not  bury  him  at  sea.  At  his  earnest 
request  they  took  him  back  to  his  own  land  to  be 
laid  with  his  ancestors,  none  of  whom  had  spent 
themselves  more  gloriously  or  for  a  greater  cause 
than  he. 

Marteau,  frightfully  weak,  heart-broken  and  help 
less,  by  Sir  Gervaise  Yeovil's  command  was  taken 
to  the  Baronet's  own  house. 

"I  did  my  best,"  he  said  brokenly  from  the  bed 
on  which  he  lay  as  Laure  d'Aumenier  bent  over 
him,  Sir  Gervaise  standing  grim  and  silent  with 
folded  arms  in  the  background. 

"For  France  and  the  Emperor,"  whispered  the 
woman. 

"Yes,  that,  but  for  your  husband  as  well.     He 


THE  LAST  TRY  367 

fell  upon  me.  I  was  trying  to  rally  the  Guard — 
the  Eagle — he  was  beaten  down — but  I  recognized 
him.  I  would  not  have  harmed  him." 

"He  told  me,"  said  the  Baronet,  "what  you  said. 
Tor  your  wife's  sake/  "  he  quoted  in  his  deep  voice, 
looking  curiously  at  the  girl. 

"Sir  Gervaise,"  said  the  Countess,  looking  up 
at  him  entreatingly,  "I  am  alone  in  this  world  but 
for  you.  I  was  to  have  been  your  daughter.  May 
I  speak?" 

"I  wish  it." 

"Marteau — Jean,"  she  said  softly,  "I  was  not  Jiis 
wife.  Perhaps  now  that  he  is  dead  it  would  have 
been  better  if  I  had  been,  but " 

"And  you  are  free?" 

Again  the  Countess  looked  at  the  Englishman. 
Simple  and  homely  though  he  was,  he  showed  the 
qualities  of  his  birth  and  rank. 

"Mademoiselle,"  he  began  gravely,  almost  ten 
derly.  He  looked  a  long  time  at  her.  "Little  Laure," 
he  continued  at  last,  taking  her  slender  hand  in  his 
own  great  one,  "I  had  hoped  that  you  might  some 
day  call  me  father  but  that  hope  is  gone — since 
Waterloo.  If  I  were  your  real  father  now  I  should 
say " 

"Monsieur!"  whispered  the  woman,  her  eyes 
brightening,  her  hand  tightening  in  the  clasp  of 
the  other. 

"And  I  think  the  old  Marquis  would  say 

that  it  is  the  will  of  God,  now "  He  bit  his  lip. 

It  was  all  so  different  from  what  he  imagined. 


368    THE  EAGLE  OF  THE  EMPIRE 

"Go  on,  if  you  please/'  whispered  Marteau.  "I 
am  ill.  I  cannot  bear " 

"If  she  be  guided  by  me  she  will  be  your  wife, 
young  sir,"  said  Sir  Gervaise  decisively. 

He  dropped  the  woman's  hand.  He  turned  and 
walked  heavily  out  of  the  room  without  a  backward 
glance.  He  could  do  no  more. 

"And  will  you  stoop  to  me?"  pleaded  Marteau. 

For  answer  the  woman  knelt  by  his  bed  and 
slipped  her  arm  tenderly  under  his  head.  She  bent 
and  kissed  him. 

"When  you  are  stronger,"  she  replied,  "you  shall 
raise  me  up  to  your  own  high  level  of  courage  and 
devotion  and  self-sacrifice,  but  meanwhile  it  is  upon 
my  bosom  that  your  head  must  lie." 

"Alas,"  said  Marteau,  after  a  little,  "the  Emperor 
is  taken,  the  Empire  is  lost,  my  poor  France!" 

"I  will  go  back  with  you  and  we  will  help  to  build 
it  up  again,"  said  the  woman. 

That  was  the  best  medicine  that  could  be  given 
to  the  young  man.  His  recovery  was  slow  but  it 
was  sure  and  it  was  the  more  rapid  because  of  the 
gracious  care  of  the  woman  he  loved,  who  lavished 
upon  him  all  the  pent-up  passion  of  her  fond  ador 
ing  heart. 

Sir  Gervaise  Yeovil,  whose  interest  at  court  was 
great,  exerted  himself  to  secure  a  reconfirmation  of 
Marteau's  patent  of  nobility  and  to  see  that  no 
difficulties  were  placed  in  the  way  of  the  young 
couple  in  obtaining  repossession  of  their  estates. 
So  that  once  more  there  should  be  a  d'Aumenier 
and  perhaps  a  renewal  of  the  ancient  house  in  the 


THE  LAST  TRY  369 

old  chateau  in  Champagne.  This  was  easier  since 
Marteau  had  never  taken  oath  to  King  Louis  and 
therefore  had  broken  no  faith. 

At  the  quiet  wedding  that  took  place  as  soon 
as  Marteau  recovered  his  strength  a  little,  Sir  Ger- 
vaise  continued  to  act  the  father's  part  to  the  poor 
woman.  After  the  ceremony  he  delighted  the  heart 
of  the  soldier  by  giving  to  him  what  he  loved  after 
the  woman,  the  Eagle  which  had  been  Frank  Yeo- 
vil's  prize. 

"You  will  think  of  the  lad,  sometimes,"  said  the 
old  Baronet  to  the  girl.  "He  was  not  lucky  enough 
to  win  you,  but  he  loved  you  and  he  died  with 
your  name  on  his  lips." 

"I  shall  remember  him  always,"  said  the  new- 
made  wife. 

"His  name  shall  be  held  in  highest  honor  in  my 
house  as  a  brave  soldier,  a  true  lover  and  a  most 
gallant  gentleman,"  added  the  new-made  husband. 

Marteau  would  never  forget  the  picture  of  the 
Emperor  sitting  on  his  horse  at  La  Belle  Alliance 
that  June  evening,  stern,  terrific,  almost  sublime, 
watching  the  Guard  go  by  to  death.  He  was  glad 
he  had  not  seen  him  in  the  retreat  of  which  he  after 
ward  heard  from  old  Bal-Arret.  But  that  was  not 
the  last  picture  of  the  Emperor  that  he  had.  Al 
though  he  was  scarcely  strong  enough  to  be  moved, 
he  insisted  on  being  taken  to  Portsmouth  with  his 
young  wife.  Sir  Gervaise  went  with  him.  He  had 
no  other  object  in  life  it  seemed  but  to  provide 
happiness  for  these  young  people.  He  could  scarcely 
bear  them  out  of  his  sight. 


370    THE  EAGLE  OF  THE  EMPIRE 

One  day,  a  bright  and  sunny  morning  late  in 
July,  they  put  the  convalescing  soldier  into  a  boat 
with  his  wife  and  the  old  Baronet  and  the  three 
were  rowed  out  into  the  harbor  as  near  as  the  cordon 
of  guard-boats  allowed  them  to  approach  to  a  great 
English  ship-of-the-line,  across  the  stern  of  which 
in  gold  letters  they  read  the  name,  "Bellerophon" 

"Bonaparte  gener'ly  comes  out  'n  the  quarter- 
gal'ry  of  the  ship,  'bout  this  hour  in  the  morning" 
said  one  of  the  boatmen.  "An'  if  he  does  we  can  see 
him  quite  plain  from  yere." 

There  were  other  boats  there  whose  occupants 
were  moved  by  curiosity  and  various  emotions,  but 
when  the  figure  of  the  little  man  with  the  three- 
cornered  cocked  hat  on  his  head,  still  wearing  the 
green  uniform  of  the  chasseurs  of  the  Guard  stepped 
out  on  the  quarter-gallery,  his  eyes,  as  it  were  in 
stinctively,  sought  that  particular  boat. 

"Help  me  up,"  said  Marteau  brokenly. 

The  boat  was  a  large  one  and  moving  carefully 
they  got  the  young  officer  to  his  feet.  He  was  wear 
ing  his  own  battle-stained  uniform.  He  lifted  his 
trembling  hand  to  his  head  in  salute.  The  little 
Emperor  bent  over  the  rail  and  stared  hard  at  the 
trio.  Did  he  recognize  Marteau?  Ah,  yes!  He 
straightened  up  presently,  his  own  hand  returned 
the  salute  and  then  he  took  off  that  same  cocked  hat 
and  bared  his  brow  and  bent  his  head  low  and,  with 
a  gesture  of  farewell,  he  turned  and  reentered  his 
cabin — Prometheus  on  the  way  to  his  chains  at  St. 
Helena! 

THE  END 


•  r  Mill  mi      |     I  IJIfllHUIIII    ||[      ||| 

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